


Lily of the Valley

by kinole009x



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-11-28 18:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 140,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinole009x/pseuds/kinole009x
Summary: Ronnie Tetzlaff, a roadie for Queen, was not expecting to become pregnant.  Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John have zero experience with pregnancy and childbirth.  But they find themselves slowly learning to weather the pregnancy storm and becoming Ronnie's closest friends.But things start to slowly fall apart when Ronnie hurts the one band member who would do anything and everything for her.





	1. Chapter 1

Ronnie knew her life was going to change the moment she threw up into the venue's potted hallway plant.  
  
She felt so much better the moment she did, but then she remembered where she was and, horrified, her head snapped up as she looked frantically around her.  
  
No one was there. Ronnie sighed in relief. No witnesses. Yet, there was still the evidence...  
  
Hefting the potted plant into her arms, she hurried down the hall to the nearest exit, where she was quite certain she'd seen a large blue dumpster. A place as big as this had numerous potted plans. Surely no one would miss this one.  
  
Turning the corner, Ronnie saw Peter Hince traveling in her direction. Ronnie's stomach lurched, but she forced herself to keep walking. He'd already spotted her, and to turn and go the other way now would look very suspicious, perhaps more suspicious than carrying a plant through the halls. Well, maybe not. Holding her head high and clinging to the last shreds of her dignity, Ronnie passed Peter and met his smirk with a, "Shut up, Ratty!"  
  
The clear glass door was just ahead and Ronnie picked up the pace as she approached it, as eager as if it were the finish line of a race. Shoving the door open with her hip, she spotted the bright blue of the dumpster in the distance and letting out a dramatic sigh of relief, made her way over to it.  
  
Standing directly in front of the dumpster, Ronnie began to lift the pot above her head and realized at that moment how heavy it was. In her initial panic, it hadn't seemed heavy at all. Perhaps humiliation had made her stronger than she realized. Struggling and straining and letting out a few frustrated grunts, Ronnie hefted the plant upwards, holding it directly over her head, and looking up, her mouth dropped open.  
  
She was too short. She even stood on her tip toes, but the top of the pot was just a few inches below the top of the dumpster, and it was not enough for her to gain any momentum by tipping the pot over and in. She could have cried in frustration.  
  
The venue door opened behind her. Ronnie squeezed her eyes shut. _This is it_ , she thought to herself. _I might as well kiss any reputation I had goodbye, because this will look like complete and utter insanity._ There would be no explaining this situation away.  
  
As the footsteps came closer and closer, Ronnie inwardly prayed that it would be anyone but the four boys they worked for. Anyone but the band.  
  
Ronnie suddenly felt a weight leave her as two hands took the potted plant from her and tossed it effortlessly into the garbage. She turned around to see Ratty with that same smirk. She couldn't bring herself to care. She could have thrown her arms around him at that point.  
  
"Thank you," she said breathlessly, leaning her back against the dumpster and sliding down to the ground. She ached all over and a touch of nausea still swam in the pit of her stomach.  
  
Ratty sat down next to her. "Anytime," he said, clearly amused. "You know, for a moment I thought you liked it so much you were stealing it."  
  
Ronnie let out a snort. "I'm no plant thief, believe me."  
  
"So what did the plant do to deserve a trip to the dumpster, then?" Ratty's voice was still light, but seriousness had slowly creeped in. _He knows something_ , Ronnie thought, her heart sinking.  
  
"I sort of..." Ronnie paused, trying to find a way to say it delicately, but there was no pretty way to say it. "I puked," she said finally.  
  
Ratty nodded thoughtfully. "Haven't been feeling well, huh?"  
  
Ronnie was silent. _He most definitely knows something_.  
  
"Not really, no," she said, staring straight ahead into the setting sun. The pavement suddenly felt very hot and unforgiving. It wasn't the first time she had thrown up in the past six weeks - in fact, it happened quite often. Today just happened to be the first time she couldn't make it to a bathroom.  
  
"Maybe you should see a doctor," Ratty said innocently, taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighting up. He offered the pack to her, but she shook her head.  
  
"I'll be all right," she replied. "Nothing a little bit of fluids and rest can't fix."  
  
Ratty blew smoke out into the oncoming night. "I think you haven't seen a doctor because you already know what's wrong with you."  
  
Taken aback, Ronnie couldn't help but glance at Ratty. "What?"  
  
Ratty met her gaze. "You know what's going on."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
Ratty took a deep drag, repositioned himself so he was facing her, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Ronnie felt her stomach drop to her knees. She knew exactly what he meant and now that someone else suspected it, she couldn't go on ignoring it.  
  
"I don't know for sure," Ronnie whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. She was suddenly very cold.  
  
"If you don't want to see a doctor, there's other ways to find out," Ratty said, leaning his shoulder against the dumpster. "Look, we're just about done for the night. No one will miss us for fifteen minutes. Let's go to the pharmacy down the road."  
  
Ronnie shook her head anxiously. "They'll judge me."  
  
"Then I'll buy it."  
  
"No, Ratty, I wouldn't make you do that."  
  
Ratty snubbed out his cigarette on the pavement and got up. Holding out his hands, he smiled reassuringly. "Come on, it'll be like a band aid. The quicker we get it over with, the less painful it will be. And besides, wouldn't you rather know?"  
  
Ronnie took his hands and allowed him to pull her up. "No."  
  
Ratty laughed. "Come on, let's go."  
  
Ronnie followed Ratty out of the parking lot, realizing that the potted plant was likely the least of her worries that night.  
  
\----  
  
Later that night, after Ratty and Ronnie were relatively sure everyone in their entourage had left the building, they found a women's restroom in the back of the venue.

Thankfully, it was a single stall. Ronnie clung to the paper bag in her hands nervously as she looked around.  
  
"Now or never," Ratty said cheerfully.  
  
Ronnie gave him a terrified look. "I could lose my job."  
  
"I doubt it," Ratty answered. "They're not like that, you know."  
  
"But I'd be useless," Ronnie insisted.  
  
"There's only a few shows left anyway. We'll worry about it after we know." Ratty opened the door for her and flipped on the light switch. It made Ronnie feel slightly better when he said "we", as if perhaps she wasn't totally alone in this situation.  
  
Ronnie hesitantly stepped inside the bathroom, before turning and looking at Ratty. He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll stand guard, don't worry."  
  
Ronnie lifted the paper bag. "I'm...I'm not sure..." She trailed off, not even sure what she was trying to say. Was she asking for advice or directions or for a friend? She felt like a very small child who needed a hand to hold.  
  
"I think you just piss on it," Ratty said helpfully, before closing the door behind him.  
  
Ronnie hugged the paper bag to her chest. She really was alone now. Taking a shuddering breath, she walked over to the stall and opened the door. As Ratty said, now or never. What she learned from the little white stick in the bag would determine the course of her future...for better or for worse. Breathing out heavily through her mouth, Ronnie closed the door behind her.  
  
\---  
  
Ratty paced outside the door of the lavatory, glancing at the clock in the hallway now and then. What was keeping Ronnie? Surely she should know by now. He turned and put an ear against the door. He couldn't hear anything. Uncharacteristically worried, he raised a fist, intent on knocking, until he heard a familiar voice behind him.  
  
"Ratty!"  
  
Ratty spun around. "Freddie?!"  
  
"Yes, darling!" Freddie drawled, and Ratty was surprised to see he was still in his stage clothes, a particularly revealing black leotard and ballet slippers.  
  
Freddie leaned against the bathroom doorframe and winked at Ratty conspiratorially. "Stalking the ladies, are we Ratty?"  
  
"N-no," Ratty stuttered nervously and then realized what time it was. "I thought you had all left?"  
  
"Well the dressing room had such lovely delicacies and finely cushioned sofas that we decided to stay awhile!" Freddie said grandly, before lowering his voice and leaning closer to Ratty. "Ratty dear, if you wanted a lady friend, you could have come to me instead of hovering around the loo."  
  
"No, Freddie, that's not it," Ratty said immediately, and then realized he should have gone along with it. Now he'd have to explain why he was really there. He felt like the guardian of Ronnie's secret and somehow, sensed she wouldn't want the band to know.  
  
"No?" Freddie laughed. "Well then, what is it, darling? Is there some kind of trouble?"  
  
Ratty felt his ears burning as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. He could always be counted on for jokes and banter usually, but being put on the spot during an especially tense moment was much different.  
  
Freddie's smile slowly disappeared. It was at that moment that Ratty knew he was lost. Freddie could detect any lie and was quite fond of his talent for seeing through other people's bullshit.  
  
"What happened?" Freddie asked firmly.  
  
Ratty sighed. "It's not my secret to tell."  
  
"Then who's secret is it, darling? I'll ask them myself."  
  
"Ronnie," Ratty answered quietly and jabbed a thumb towards the closed door. Freddie nodded briskly, before pounding loudly on the door. "Ronnie, darling, I hope you're decent because I'm coming in!" And with that, he disappeared into the women's restroom.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie looked up with wide eyes as she heard Freddie's voice and the door opening. She had locked herself in the stall, but she was fully dressed, sitting on the closed toilet seat, the little white stick still in her hands.  
  
She heard Freddie's polite knock on the stall. "Ronnie, dear, is everything all right?"  
  
Ronnie swallowed what would have been a bout of hysteria. "Yes!"  
  
There was a pause. "Are you sure?" Freddie asked carefully.  
  
Ronnie bit back a sob she had been holding in. There were salty tears in her hair and there was snot everywhere and the stick in her hands certainly smelled of urine. Freddie Mercury did not belong in this scene, of that Ronnie was certain. But instead of a confident yes, a sound that sounded something like a dying creature escaped from Ronnie's throat.  
  
Freddie shook the stall door slightly. "Please let me in, Ronnie."  
  
Ronnie reached over and unlocked the door. This was it. Her life, her friends, her job - all of it would be gone.  
  
Freddie pushed open the door and upon seeing the frightened woman in front of him, immediately dropped to his knees. "Ronnie, sweetheart, what is it? What's happened?" He went to take her hands in his and saw the white stick in her grip.  
  
He smiled at her sadly. "I'm guessing you know the result, darling?"  
  
Ronnie nodded as she dropped the pregnancy test into the small trash bin beside her and dropped her face into her hands.  
  
"Well, surely it can't all be bad?" Freddie asked reasonably, scooting closer to Ronnie and patting her back comfortingly.  
  
Ronnie knew he was only being kind and that he could likely see the situation clearly enough. There was no husband - there wasn't even a _boyfriend_ \- and no family. All bad, indeed.  
  
Deciding it was time to man up, so to speak, Ronnie lifted her head and gave Freddie a brave smile. Freddie, suddenly remembering something, patted various parts of his body before realizing he was still in his leotard, in which there was nowhere to hide a handkerchief. He quickly unrolled a dramatically large wad of toilet paper from the dispenser on the wall and handed it to Ronnie. She took it gratefully and wiped her eyes and blew her nose.  
  
"If - " Ronnie stopped, realizing how difficult it was to say what she had to say next. She never full realized until that moment how much she loved her job and the people she worked with. "If you need to let me go, I totally understand."  
  
"Let you go?" Freddie repeated, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"You know..." Ronnie said quietly. "Fire me."  
  
"Ronnie dearest, why on earth would we want to do that?" Freddie exclaimed. "We _love_ you, darling!" He shook his head in wonder. "You honestly think we would have kicked you to the curb? Silly girl!"  
  
Ronnie fell against the side of the stall, leaning her cheek against the cold metal. She had never felt so relieved.  
  
"But," Freddie continued, taking her hands, "I do think you need to be sure about this. Those dreadful things," he nodded in disdain at the trash bin. "Well, they're shit, dear. You can't really rely on them."  
  
"You mean...?" Ronnie felt hope returning, although she cautioned herself not to get too high with it. The higher you went, the harder the fall would be.  
  
"Maybe it's wrong!" Freddie stood up, pulling Ronnie up with him. "I think you should see a physician immediately. He can tell you for sure...now won't you feel better knowing for sure?"  
  
Ronnie felt a sense of deja vu as Freddie pulled her out of the bathroom and into the hall. Hadn't Ratty just said that to her not too long ago? And speaking of Ratty...as they passed him, she gave him a questioning glance and he shrugged apologetically. She grabbed his wrist and they allowed Freddie to escort them eagerly down the hall.  
  
\----  
  
Ronnie had been expecting Freddie to lead them to a quiet, private room where they could wait in peace and anonymity. And so, when he burst into the band's dressing room like an enthusiastic hurricane, Ronnie was more than a little surprised - in fact, she was _horrified_.  
  
She gawked at the three musicians gathered in the room, feeling her cheeks turning bright red. With her blood shot eyes and wild hair and - oh good God in heaven, had she gotten all the snot off her face? She slowly held up a hand in greeting.  
  
Freddie seemed to realize his error at that moment as he looked around the room, and then at Ronnie. "Whoops." He leaned closer to her. "Forgive me, dear, my error completely."  
  
Ronnie bit her tongue. Her secret would be well known by the wee hours of the morning, she was sure of it.  
  
But Brian, Roger, and John gave friendly waves and reassuring smiles and Ronnie relaxed ever so slightly.  
  
"On a mission, Fred?" Brian inquired.  
  
Freddie cleared his throat theatrically. "Veronica," he began.  
  
Ronnie shot him a bewildered look. Veronica? How very formal.  
  
Freddie ignored her. "Veronica is feeling terribly under the weather," he explained, as his bandmates hemmed and hawed in sympathy. "I am going to go fetch a physician...immediately. I know there was one here not too long ago, maybe I can catch him..." and with that, Freddie disappeared.  
  
If anyone was wondering why Freddie didn't dispatch Ratty to go find a physician, no one said anything.  
  
After the door closed behind Freddie, it was silent for just a moment, before the three guys enthusiastically waved Ratty and Ronnie over and offered them refreshments. Ronnie, remembering her encounter with the potted plant earlier in the evening, gratefully accepted a cup of water but politely declined anything else.  
  
"You two look like you've had one hell of a night," Roger observed with a grin, taking in the sight of Ratty and Ronnie huddled on a sofa, looking quite exhausted.  
  
"You can say that again," Ratty muttered, taking a long drink.  
  
"I'm so sorry to hear you're not feeling well, Ronnie," Brian said kindly. "Is there anything we can do?"

Still clinging to the one thin thread of hope that Freddie had given her, Ronnie smiled. "No, but thank you for asking, Brian."  
  
"Did you get a chance to catch any of the show?" John asked her with a polite smile. It was most certainly an attempt at small conversation, since John knew perfectly well that Ronnie - like the rest of the crew - was at every show and that this one wasn't any different.  
  
Roger immediately pointed this fact out. "Deaky, she's seen every show."  
  
"Rog, I think Deaky was trying to take her mind off of her illness," Brian said reasonably. He turned to Ronnie. "You really do look quite ill."  
  
"Want to know what makes me feel better?" Roger offered. Brian sighed and mumbled under his breath, "We can hardly wait," at the same time that John suggested, "Your car?"  
  
Roger shot them a look before turning his full attention back to Ronnie. "Food! Perhaps you just need something to eat?"  
  
The very thought of food made Ronnie want to go running to the nearest potted plant. "Oh, thank you Roger, truly," she said. "But I think food will actually make it worse."  
"Must be some illness," Roger commented.  
  
"Nothing this doctor can't fix, eh Ronnie?" Ratty said cheerfully, the stress of the night - plus the drink in his hand - finally beginning to take hold on him.  
  
Ronnie gave him a look, before leaning back further into the sofa, wanting nothing more at that moment than to disappear, as the minutes dragged on and the physician still did not come.  
  
"Right, Ratty."  
  
\---  
  
"Approximately six weeks."  
  
" _What?_ " Ronnie exclaimed, turning to the kindly old physician by her side.  
  
The doctor shrugged apologetically. "Congratulations," he said. "It's a baby."  
  
"Are you _sure_?" Ronnie whispered, trying not to become hysterical.  
  
"Your first pregnancy test was positive," the doctor explained. "The second urine test that I did was positive. And the pelvic exam quite confirmed it."  
  
Ronnie let out a frustrated sigh. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry_.  
  
"If you'd like, I can do a blood test, as well," the doctor offered. "The results would come back in a couple of days."  
  
The thought of waiting an additional few days to know what was going on _for sure_ seemed like a special form of torture. Ronnie shook her head, before asking, "How sure are you? Like, on a scale from one to ten?"  
  
"Ten," the physician replied firmly. "And as the weeks go on, you'll be that certain, too."  
  
There was nothing else to say, and no point in arguing. "Thank you, doctor," Ronnie said quietly.  
  
The doctor smiled kindly. "I'll give you a few moments while I have a quick word with your friends outside. But please, if you have any questions or should need anything, don't hesitate to reach out."  
  
Ronnie managed a very small smile, but the moment the doctor has closed the door behind him, it disappeared completely. She slid off the makeshift operating table - a flimsy folding table she didn't entirely trust, with a crisp white catering tablecloth on top - and pulled her pants on. Snatching the tablecloth, she threw it into the trash. No one would want to use that for their next event, of that she was certain.  
  
Ronnie's next order of business was to drop into the nearest chair and proceed to feel very sorry for herself. She halfheartedly attempted to warn herself to be quiet or she would alarm people, before giving up and erupting into noisy sobs.  
  
So wrapped up was she in her own misery that she didn't hear the door open and didn't realize she wasn't alone until two warm hands gently pulled her own hands away from her face. Freddie was squatting in front of her, now dressed in fairly ordinary clothes. Ronnie half wished he was still in his leotard. Then perhaps her current situation wouldn't feel so real.  
  
Ratty had sat down in the chair next to her and awkwardly put a hand on her back. There was really nothing the two men could say. Congratulations were not in order and there was no way to make the situation better.  
  
But that didn't stop Freddie. "Ronnie darling," he said gently. "What we're going to do now is get you back to your hotel room. You're going to get into your comfiest pajamas and while you're doing that, I'm going to put Ratty to bed." Ratty opened his mouth to point out he was fully capable of putting himself to bed, but Freddie ignored him and continued: "Then, I'm going to make you a cup of tea, and you're going to get the best night's sleep of your life."  
  
Ronnie couldn't deny how wonderful that sounded. She nodded, before admitting quietly, "I don't know what I'm going to do."  
  
Ratty had started to fidget nervously beside her.  
  
"Ratty, dear, do you have an idea?" Freddie asked encouragingly, as he patted around his various pockets and found a handkerchief, at last. He placed it ceremoniously in Ronnie's hands, and she gratefully wiped her face.  
  
"Well," Ratty said slowly. "There are...there are _people_ , you know, who can...who can..."  
  
Ronnie knew what he was trying to say. "No," she said softly. "Thank you for trying to help. But...I could never." She had heard horror stories of operations like that and besides, she could never bring herself to do it.  
  
Ratty seemed relieved, and nodded in agreement.  
  
"I'm going to place you in Ratty's capable hands for just a few minutes, darling," Freddie said to Ronnie. "I'll tell the boys to go ahead to the hotel ahead of us, and then the three of us will catch a cab."  
  
Ronnie was grateful. She was sure she couldn't face anyone else tonight; her news was surely written across her entire face.  
  
Freddie gave her knee a reassuring pat, before striding over to the door and opening it wide. He expected to step out into an empty hallway, and nearly jumped out of his skin when instead, he walked into his three bandmates.  
  
"For Christ's sake," he exclaimed, a hand to his heart. "What _are_ you three doing?"  
  
"How is she?" Brian asked, ignoring Freddie's question.  
  
Freddie pulled the door shut a bit harder than he intended to. "Bunch of bloody peeping Toms, you just about gave me a heart attack..." he paused for a moment, before smiling to himself. "A sheer heart attack."  
  
"What did the doctor say?" Roger asked impatiently, ignoring the fact that Freddie had just referenced the song he had recently written. "Is she feeling any better?"  
  
"Who?" Freddie was very unsure of how much he could disclose to the rest of the band and needed to buy himself a bit of time.  
  
Brian stared at Freddie incredulously.  
  
Freddie frowned; he should have realized that tactic wouldn't work. There was a long pause, before he finally said, "She is right as rain, darling." He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.  
  
John had not yet said anything, but at this, he raised his eyebrows. Freddie met his friend's glance, squirming slightly under the stare. John didn't _need_ to say anything; his face often said it all.  
  
Freddie blew out a long sigh. "I will tell you, as soon as I am allowed to," he said.  
  
Roger balked at this. "It's that bad?"  
  
" _No_ , it's not bad, per say...it really depends on how you look at it..."  
  
"Freddie," Brian said, slightly alarmed. "Promise us you'll tell us as soon as you can?"  
  
"Yes," Freddie agreed. "Yes, yes, I promise. Now, you three should hurry back to the hotel. I won't be far behind." He shooed them away, and watched as they slowly - for the sake of all that was good and pure, why wouldn't they hurry up - made their way down the hall and disappeared around the corner.  
  
Freddie waited for a moment and when Roger's head peeked around the corner, he made vicious waving motions at him. Roger disappeared immediately. Rubbing away a headache that was beginning to form, Freddie disappeared back inside the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Freddie frowned as he stared inside the small cupboard in Ronnie's hotel room. No tea, just some kind of horrid-smelling coffee and cheap biscuits. What kind of decent hotel room didn't carry the option of tea, which could fix just about every situation? Sighing, he closed the cupboard door and glanced at the closed bathroom door, where Ronnie was preparing for her best sleep ever. He had promised her a cup of tea and he had to deliver.  
  
There was nothing else to do. Sitting on the edge of one of the beds in the room, he picked up the telephone receiver and dialed the number to the suite he shared with his bandmates.  
  
"Queen, best band in the world," Roger's voice answered. "How may we serve you?"  
  
" _Roger_!" came Brian's voice from the background.  
  
"Darling, I need someone to make me a cup of tea and bring it to room 325," Freddie said in a low voice.  
  
"All right!" Roger said enthusiastically.  
  
"I just need _one_ person to bring it down," Freddie warned. "Just one. And then they need to go straight back upstairs."  
  
"You've got it Freddie, we won't let you down." And before Freddie could say another word, the line went dead.  
  
Freddie went over to the door and hovered near it, occasionally peeking through the tiny peep hole out into the hallway. He had a feeling that his instructions would be ignored - and he was right.  
  
Not long after, there was a knock on the door. Freddie opened the door to see not one bandmate, but three, with Roger at the front holding a paper cup of tea.  
  
Freddie observed them carefully. "Must be an awfully precious cup of tea if it warranted an escort of _three_."  
  
John held up another paper cup. "Well actually, we brought a spare."  
  
"In case Roger dropped his cup on the way down," Brian explained, and Roger nodded in agreement.  
  
Freddie crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. They were putting him in a very difficult position. "Really sweet of you, really it was, but I'm sure Veronica is very tired, and we should all take our leave..."  
  
Ronnie had appeared behind Freddie in the doorway, and peered over his shoulder. "Actually, I'd really love some company."  
  
Freddie turned around, surprised. "Are you sure, darling?"  
  
Ronnie nodded earnestly. "I won't be able to sleep," she said. "It's been a...rather exciting day."  
  
"Oh _really_?" Roger asked, very interested.  
  
Ronnie waved them in with a smile. "Come in, guys."  
  
Shooting Freddie a variety of cheesy grins, the rest of the band made their way into the hotel room. Rolling his eyes, Freddie closed the door with a soft click.  
  
Ronnie gestured around. "It's not much, nor is it very big but - make yourselves at home." She was sure they had a suite that they all shared, but she was quite content with her one little room with two queen beds (although she could have done fine with just one bed). It was quite cozy.  
  
Roger presented her with the cup of tea, which she took with a warm smile and thank you, and John placed the other cup on her nightstand. The only place to sit in the room were the beds, and the band lost no time in making themselves comfortable - Roger and Brian on the bed closest to the window, and Freddie, John, and Ronnie on the remaining one.  
  
An awkward silence descended upon the room.  
  
" _So_ ," Roger said casually. "What's new, Ronnie?"  
  
Freddie shot him a death glare, before running his finger through the air across his neck.  
  
"Oh, you know," Ronnie said. _Just found out I'm pregnant and my life is over. Surprise!_  
  
Roger turned to Brian. "Do I though?" It was very hard to get any news out of anyone these days.  
  
Brian glanced at him, before turning to the others. "How about a movie?"  
  
Ronnie gave them a pained look. "I only get one channel."  
  
"One channel? What do you do all night, my dear?" Freddie asked in concern.  
  
Ronnie smiled at him. "Sleep?"  
  
"Reasonable enough," John agreed.  
  
"Well is it a good channel?" Roger asked.  
  
"Ehm...it has the basics," Ronnie said.  
  
"Well, that's fine then," Brian said. "There's that and we could just, you know...talk."  
  
Freddie widened his eyes behind Ronnie's back and shook his head wildly.  
  
Roger popped off the bed. "I think we have snacks upstairs." And with that, he disappeared into the hallway.  
  
Ronnie couldn't have been more thrilled when he returned with popcorn, peanuts, and Scrabble. Sipping her tea and surrounded by distractions, she almost - _almost_ \- forgot about her predicament. It was as if, for one night, she could pretend it wasn't happening to her.  
  
"Deaky, do that thing you do to Brian on stage," Roger said enthusiastically from his end of his respective bed.  
  
Deaky reached for a peanut and tossed it lightly over to their bed. It landed in Brian's curly mane of hair.  
  
Brian endured it with good humor. "I'm used it it," he explained to Ronnie, as Roger plucked the peanut out of his curls and popped it in his mouth.  
  
" _Rog_ ," Freddie laughed in disgust. "You don't know where that hair's been."  
  
"Exactly," Brian agreed. "I was born with it, remember?"  
  
John threw another peanut across the room. Roger vaulted in front of Brian to catch it in his mouth, nearly knocking Brian off of the bed.  
  
Ronnie grinned. "Nice catch,"she remarked, and Roger bowed.  
  
The night wore on with more of the same and eventually, they fell into a companionable silence, with only soft light and sound coming from the one channel on the television. One by one, they fell asleep, and for that, Ronnie was sorry, because it left her with her own thoughts.  
  
She looked over at the other bed, where Brian was sleeping against three fluffy pillows, his arms crossed gently across his middle. Roger's head was at the opposite end of the bed, at the foot, and he was asleep on his stomach, his feet resting on the pillow next to Brian.  
  
Ronnie then turned her attention back to the bed that she was sitting on, and she couldn't help but be surprised that three people fit so comfortably on it. She was on the end, next to the night stand. At the other end of the bed, Freddie was curled into a fetal position, facing them all, his hands clasped under his cheek. John was sandwiched between the two of them, his head resting in the crook of his arm.  
  
She didn't want them to leave and so, she scooched down into a more comfortable position on her back, and let herself drift off to sleep.  
  
\---  
  
A terrible lurch in her stomach woke Ronnie in the wee hours of the morning. Sitting up in alarm, she clamped a hand over her mouth. _No, no no,_ she thought frantically. _Not now!_  
  
A wave of nausea swept over her, and she vaulted out of the bed, running for the bathroom. She had just enough time to flip on the switch and make a very poor attempt to close the door, before she fell before the toilet and retched.  
  
After just a few moments, Ronnie felt long fingers pulling back her hair, and for that she was grateful. Lord knows she had gotten enough tears and snot in her hair the night before; the last thing she needed was for it to be streaked with vomit, as well.  
  
But her gratitude slowly turned to embarrassment as she realized there were only four possible people who could have been in the bathroom with her at that moment. How she wished it was Ratty. It was like embarrassment didn't even exist with Ratty anymore; she had held his hair back often enough as he vomited his brains out.

  
Ronnie leaned her forearms against the toilet seat, catching her breath and hoping that whoever had held her hair back would leave. She felt someone rubbing her back gently and when it became apparent that they weren't going anywhere, she flushed the toilet, put the seat down, and let herself drop to the side, so her hip was supporting her weight. She felt completely and utterly defeated.  
  
_Now or never, Ronnie._ It was time to see who the witness was to her morning spectacle. She slowly looked up. John was kneeling beside her and he quickly removed his hand from her back when she met his eyes.  
  
Though his long brown hair was tousled and his expression slightly tired, his eyes were wide with concern. But she only saw that for a brief moment, before he offered her a sweet smile.  
  
"You don't owe me an explanation," John said gently. Ronnie stared at him in surprise. Anyone else would have been asking questions - _so_ many questions - and yet it was Deaky, the youngest of them all, who merely accepted the situation. And she was so relieved by this that a tear escaped down her cheek. He hesitantly reached forward and brushed it away with his thumb, before wrapping a firm arm around her waist and helping her to the vanity. He supported her as she reached for the mouthwash and swished and gargled it around in her mouth for a good long while. Finally, she spit it out, looked at John, and nodded.  
  
John helped her back out to the bedroom and walked her slowly over to the bed, the light from the television illuminating the room and showing the still sleeping figures of the other three members of the band. He helped her into the bed, into his former spot, so that she was in the middle this time, and covered her and Freddie with the blanket that was folded at the end of the bed.  
  
As Ronnie's head sunk into the pillow, her embarrassment was replaced by weariness.  
  
"Thank you, Deaky," she whispered.  
  
"Welcome," John mumbled shyly, and Ronnie smiled. Tucked safely between the bassist and lead singer, she fell into a merciful, dreamless sleep.  
  
\---  
  
When Ronnie woke later that morning, sunlight was streaming into the room. Squinting in the light, she stretched and then burrowed deeper into her pillow, feeling completely content. They all had a day off today, there was no rush to get anywhere, life was good...  
  
And then the events of yesterday hit her like a brick, and her stomach dropped. She pulled the blanket over her head. Oh, that's right. There was a baby on the way and she had thrown up in front of John Deacon. Life was _not_ good.  
  
She looked up then and noticed she was alone. The four boys had left sometime in the morning and for some reason, that made her feel very sad.  
  
Eventually, her full bladder forced her out of bed. _Better get used to this, dearie,_ she told herself drearily, as she trudged wearily to the bathroom. After, she gratefully crawled back into bed and buried her face in the pillow. After all, they had the day off and there was no rush to get anywhere...why get out of bed today? She drifted back to sleep very quickly.  
  
\---  
  
Roger looked into his morning cup of tea thoughtfully. "Do you think she needs another cup of tea?"  
  
"Leave her alone, Roger," Brian said sternly, but he couldn't help but smile.  
  
"I'm sure she's still sleeping off the events of yesterday, honestly," Freddie said casually, then quickly shut his mouth. The night before had been so relaxing, and so normal, that he had let his guard down.  
  
"The events of yesterday?" Roger repeated. "So Ronnie wasn't ill?"  
  
"No, no," Freddie said quickly. _Drat._ "She _was_ ill."  
  
"She looked fine to me last night," Roger said suspiciously.  
  
"Actually," John spoke up. "She threw up early this morning." The moment the words had escaped, he regretted them, as his three bandmates all turned to him in surprise.  
  
"Did she now?" Roger turned to their lead singer. "Freddie?"  
  
Freddie pretended he hadn't heard him.  
  
"She's expecting, isn't she?" Brian said quietly.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Expecting what?" Roger asked anxiously.  
  
"Freddie?" Brian prompted.  
  
Freddie looked over at Brian. "You said it, dear, not I."  
  
"What is she expecting?" Roger asked, his voice slightly higher than normal. Freddie knew that Roger knew exactly what Brian meant, but wanted it confirmed out loud.  
  
The tension in the room grew so uncomfortable, that Freddie, letting out a defeated sigh, said, "All right, yes. Brian is right."  
  
Roger's eyes widened and John looked down at his hands and blushed.  
  
"That's wonderful news!" Brian exclaimed. "We should take her out tonight for a drink to celebrate!"  
  
"I don't know if - " Freddie began.  
  
Brian interrupted him. "We should congratulate her properly."  
  
"But - "  
  
"Should I give her a ring?"  
  
"No, no - I'll do it," Freddie said quickly. "But don't be surprised if she says no."  
  
After Freddie had made his way over to the telephone, Roger shook his head in wonder. "I didn't know she had a fella," he said, before turning to John. "Did you, Deaky?"  
  
John shook his head quickly and looked away.  
  
\---  
  
_Ronnie was in labor._  
  
_She was on the floor, legs spread wide, panting like a dog, surrounded by people though she couldn't see who. But the only sensation she was aware of was sound - the ringing of a telephone. It rang, and rang, and rang...Ronnie's mouth opened in a silent scream, not because she was in pain, but because she was infuriated that the telephone would not stop ringing._  
  
_Ring, ring, ring..._  
  
Ronnie's eyes snapped open and she realized that part of the dream was real - the telephone _was_ ringing. Hefting herself up to lean on her elbow, she picked up the receiver and mumbled a sleepy "Hello?"  
  
"Good morning, sunshine!" Freddie's voice said cheerfully.  
  
Ronnie squinted at the clock on the nightstand. "Is it morning?" she asked wearily. It couldn't possibly be that early, the plan had been to sleep the day away.  
  
"Well, 11:58," Freddie replied. "Close enough!" He lowered his voice. "Listen, darling...they know."  
  
"Who knows what?" Ronnie asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she fell back against her pillow.  
  
"The boys," Freddie was practically whispering. "They _know_."  
  
Freddie's meaning hit Ronnie very suddenly, and she felt that terrible mixture of fear, despair, and humiliation in her belly. "Oh."  
  
"I'm sorry, dear, they sort of...guessed."  
  
Ronnie sighed. "That's all right, Freddie, they were going to find out sooner or later."  
  
"Which leads me to my next order of business," Freddie went on. "They want to take you out for a drink tonight to celebrate."  
  
Ronnie's eyes filled with tears. "There's nothing to celebrate."  
  
"They don't know that, dear," Freddie said quietly.  
  
"A reason to celebrate!" Ronnie retorted. "A reason to celebrate would be like..." Still in a hazy state from waking up from a deep sleep, Ronnie couldn't think of any reasons to celebrate. "It would be like Ratty getting out of bed this morning."

Freddie chuckled. "Well, that has yet to be confirmed."  
  
Ronnie smiled, in spite of everything.  
  
"Now, Ronnie dear," Freddie said, his voice enticing. "Come out tonight with us and have a bit of fun. Do you really have anything better to do?"  
  
Ronnie thought for a moment. _6 p.m. Eat dinner by myself: stale biscuits and cheap coffee. 7 p.m. Throw up dinner. 8 p.m. Watch the evening news - or whatever is on the one channel in the hotel room. 9 p.m. Cry myself to sleep._ Her schedule was really quite full but...  
  
"What time?" Ronnie asked finally, and although she could not see it, she was sure Freddie was grinning in triumph.  
  
"6 p.m. in the lobby, darling."  
  
\---  
  
At 6 p.m., Ronnie was in the lobby, but she wasn't standing with the band, where she could see they were clearly waiting. She was hiding behind a tall plant - what was it with her and plants lately? - wringing her hands and trying to breath. This would be the first time that Brian, Roger, and John would see her, knowing her news. What would they think?

  
Glancing behind her, she saw a group of guys from their entourage gathering, clearly getting ready to go out for the night. Among them was Ratty, who was looking at her curiously. He gestured to the plant.  
  
Ronnie looked at the plant, then back at Ratty, and shrugged.  
  
Ratty prodded a finger at his open mouth, gagging, as if to ask, _Are you going to puke in that one, too?_  
  
Ronnie shot him her best glare, though it was half-hearted at best. Smiling, she turned and walked towards the band, silently thanking Ratty for getting her away from her hiding place, though she knew that wasn't his intention.  
  
Brian was the first to spot her, and with a giant smile, he came forward with open arms. "Ronnie!" he exclaimed. "Congratulations!"  
  
Folded in his embrace, Ronnie couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm.  
  
"Well don't hog her," Roger said impatiently, and when Brian made no move to let go (clearly to irk his fellow band mate), Roger threw his arms around the both of them. "Very happy for you, Ronnie!"  
  
John had approached the group hug tentatively, hovering slightly, waiting for his opportunity to congratulate Ronnie.  
  
"Oh, come here, Deaky!" Brian said, catching his arm and pulling him into the middle of the group. Caught unawares, John bounced slightly off of Roger and came face to face with Ronnie, his nose suddenly pressed against hers.  
  
"C-congratulations, Ronnie," he stammered, pulling his head back quickly and hitting Brian in the chin with it.  
  
Freddie stood back and watched them, shaking his head with a fond grin. On the other end of the room, Ronnie saw Ratty, who was starting at them incredulously, his face red with the effort of trying not to laugh.  
  
Freddie came up behind Ronnie and joined the group hug.  
  
"See, darling?" he whispered, so only she could hear. "Told you it would be fun."  
  
\---  
  
"What'll you have to drink, honey?"  
  
Ronnie looked up at the waitress who was taking their drink order. "Water with lemon, please."  
  
Roger, on her right side, leaned towards her. "We're supposed to be _buying_ you a drink," he said good-naturedly. "You do know water is free, right?"  
  
He was right. Ronnie was suddenly very indecisive.  
  
"Roger!" Freddie said loudly. "If that's what she really wants, then by all means!" He turned to the waitress. "A water with your finest lemon, please."  
  
"Maybe if she brings the whole lemon out, Ronnie will let us buy her a fruit," Roger muttered, and Brian, who was on Ronnie's left, reach around her and gave him a playful shove.

  
"I'll have a coke," she said to the waitress.  
  
"With your finest lemon," Freddie repeated.  
  
When the waitress had left, Roger turned back to Ronnie. "Nothing with a little substance in it? We could have gotten you something a little bit more expensive."  
  
Ronnie blushed, though she tried not to. "I can't have alcoholic beverages."  
  
Roger opened his mouth to ask why not, but Freddie came to the rescue. "Because of her _condition_ , dear."  
  
These appeased Roger, and they all fell into light conversation. When their drinks arrived, Ronnie plucked her lemon into her coke with a finger, and looking up, saw John taking the lime off of the rim of his mug of beer. He offered it to her.  
  
Ronnie took it with a smile and a thank you, and put it in her drink with the lemon. In the ten seconds after, she was also given two cherries, an orange slice, and a little plastic umbrella.  
  
Roger suddenly smacked the table as he remembered something. "We should have invited your fella!"  
  
Ronnie turned to him in surprise. "My who?"  
  
"How stupid of us," Roger was prattling on, oblivious. "How very rude! He's probably back home and it would have been one hell of a drive, but it's really the thought that counts, and - "  
  
"My fella?" Ronnie interrupted him, not understanding, but then the realization dawned upon her and she wished she hadn't said anything, and that she'd let Roger keep chattering on.  
  
"Yes," Roger said. "You know - the...the dad."  
  
With wide eyes, Ronnie turned to Freddie. They hadn't discussed what to do if this happened, but then again, Ronnie didn't think the father of the baby would come up in casual conversation. Which was very stupid of her, she should have known they were curious, and it was only natural for them to think that she had a partner and this was good news and...  
  
Freddie stared back at her, at a loss for words for the moment. He wanted desperately to help her but felt he could not, because he didn't even know the circumstances under which the baby was conceived.  
  
Ronnie felt four pairs of eyes on her as her mind raced, searching for something - anything - to say. She didn't want to tell them the truth because what would they think of her then? But at the same time, they had been so very kind to her, and it would be rather rotten to lie to them. She dropped her gaze to her hands, fingers interlocked tightly in her lap.  
  
Freddie also looked down. "I'm sure he's no fun at all," he muttered, rearranging the silverware on his napkin.  
  
Ronnie looked up. "There is no father," she said softly.  
  
"What?" Roger said, surprised. "But everyone has a -  
"  
"Roger," Brian said quietly. Understanding dawned in Roger's eyes, and he shut his mouth quickly.  
  
Not sure what to say or what to do, Ronnie lifted her glass to take a sip of her drink.  
  
"Fathers are overrated anyway," John said very quietly, and Ronnie almost spat her drink out. Everyone turned to look at him, but he was looking into his own drink. Ronnie knew it was a very sweet gesture on John's part, to make her feel better, but at the same time it was incredibly sad, because John's own father had passed away when he was very young. Freddie put a comforting hand on John's back.  
  
"It was a mistake," Ronnie said firmly. "A mistake I'm paying for dearly now." Trying to lighten the mood, she turned to Roger. "So you see, you weren't stupid or rude at all."  
  
She had hoped it would make him laugh, but Roger - like the other three - was staring at her with a very kind expression. Too kind. Borderline sympathetic.  
  
"Please," she said, turning back to the table. "Please don't think less of me for it."  
  
Brian looked surprised. "Why would we think less of you?"  
  
Ronnie looked up at him sadly. "Because it wasn't planned, it wasn't expected, it wasn't...wanted. And it's really no reason to celebrate."  
  
A slightly stunned silence had fallen upon the table. Ronnie willed herself not to burst into tears. She had really ruined everything.  
  
"I should go," she whispered, reaching for her jacket.  
  
"But you haven't finished your drink," John said and looking up, Ronnie was struck by the empathy in his eyes.  
  
Roger nodded in agreement, and Freddie reached across the table to clasp her hand. "Don't go, darling."  
  
"You may feel like there's no reason to celebrate," Brian said gently. "But we want to celebrate with you anyway. If you don't want to celebrate this tonight, then we'll celebrate _you_ instead."  
  
Ronnie was overwhelmed by their compassion. Nodding and swallowing thick tears, she said, "Thank you. Truly. I can't thank you all enough."  
  
She excused herself at that moment to use the restroom - because she was peeing more frequently than she used to - and after promising Roger that she wouldn't sneak out and leave, he let her out of the booth.  
  
When Brian was sure she was out of earshot, he turned to his three friends. "We need to help that girl."  
  
"Help her?" Freddie inquired. "Brian, dear, if I know Ronnie, she won't want sympathy or charity."  
  
"That's not what I'm suggesting. I'm suggesting we support her."  
  
Roger was nodding slowly. "Go on."  
  
"There's no father," Brian said, beginning to reason it all out. "She lives on her own back home. I don't know if she has any family, since her parents..." he trailed off, but they all knew what he meant to say. Ronnie's parents had both passed away in an accident years earlier.  
  
"So you're saying we should be her friends," Roger suggested. John was nodding enthusiastically.  
  
"Yes, exactly," Brian replied, looking at each bandmate in turn. "She has always been there for us. She's driven the truck with equipment almost since the beginning - "  
  
"And she's done a bloody fantastic job of it," Roger added.  
  
"- and she's a wonderful roadie and one of our biggest fans. But also, beyond that..." Brian looked at Freddie. "Fred, remember that time those assholes were taunting you at the bar? About your teeth?"  
  
"Thank you for reminding me, darling," Freddie said sarcastically. "I hadn't wanted to forget or anything."  
  
Brian ignored him. "She scared the _hell_ of them."  
  
"She told them to piss off or they wouldn't have any teeth left," Roger said, chuckling at the memory.  
  
"She defended you," Brian said passionately, before turning to Roger. "And Roger, remember that time you were drunk out of your mind and none of us were around to fetch you from that club?"  
  
"Sort of," Roger said sheepishly, though they all knew he remembered it very well.  
  
"Ronnie came and picked you up, made sure you got back to your flat safely, _and_ tucked you in," Brian said. "Now that's support. I wouldn't have tucked you in."  
  
"Thanks, mate," Roger muttered.  
  
"And John," Brian continued, turning to their bassist. "Remember that time you were working on the Deaky amp on stage, and Ratty plugged it in, not realizing you were working on it? You got that nasty shock, and Ronnie sat on the floor with you, waiting for the paramedics to come."  
  
"Y-yes," John nodded. "She held my hand and kept talking to me, so I wouldn't fall asleep."  
  
"While reaming Ratty out at the same time," Freddie added with a laugh.  
  
"Oh, and Brian, remember the time you got the neck of your guitar stuck in your hair?" Roger said excitedly and the whole table laughed. "And you wouldn't let anyone cut your hair, so Ronnie untangled your hair from your guitar _strand by strand_. It took, what - an hour?"  
  
Brian chuckled. "Yes I remember."  
  
At that moment, they saw Ronnie making their way back to them. Brian leaned in and said quickly, "So we're agreed - we support her in this, no matter what?"  
  
They all nodded in agreement and clicked their glasses together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for your comments and kudos! I've been hanging onto the first few chapters of this story for a few weeks now, unsure if I should post, but I'm glad I did!


	3. Chapter 3

A few evenings later, Ronnie was backstage with Ratty, sitting on a heavy equipment case and watching the band perform their last show of the tour. They were on the left hand side of the stage, closest to John and to Freddie's piano. Ratty frequently had to leave and tend to any needs that Freddie or John had, but Ronnie was free to enjoy the show, with the best seat in the house.  
  
John looked their way as the band began to play "Keep Yourself Alive." He aimed a sweet smile Ronnie's way, before turning back to the crowd.  
  
"So they all know?" Ratty asked, leaning close and practically shouting in her ear over the loud music.  
  
Ronnie smiled, in spite of everything. "Yeah, they know."  
  
"And I bet they were perfectly lovely about it?" Ratty asked, before grinning and adding, "I saw your love fest in the hotel lobby a few nights ago."  
  
Ronnie laughed. "They're truly one in a million, those guys."  
  
Very suddenly, Ronnie felt a familiar tinge in her belly. Her smile disappeared. "Oh no."  
  
Ratty turned towards her, saw her expression, and nodded knowingly. "Better out than in, eh? Better go now."  
  
"But I love this song," Ronnie protested.  
  
"Yes, and I'm sure you'll hear it live another five hundred times," Ratty pointed out, as Ronnie clamped both hands over her mouth.  
  
_Keep yourself alive_  
_Keep yourself alive_  
_Ooh, it'll take you all your time and money_  
  
Ronnie ungracefully hefted herself off the piece of equipment and ran for the hall.  
  
_Honey you'll survive  
_  
"And leave the plants alone!" Ratty shouted after her, before turning back to the show. John, still on stage, was walking towards him, fingers dancing effortlessly across the strings of his bass, looking very concerned.  
  
"Woah, woah, woah," Ratty walked towards him, hands outstretched to keep him on stage. _She's fine_ , he mouthed, and John reluctantly turned back and continued with the show.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie returned a short while later, quite proud of herself for making it to a bathroom. A tad breathless, she stopped next to Ratty - who gave her a welcome-back-hope-you-had-a-good-puke grin - and leaned against the case with her arms crossed, as the familiar sounds of "Liar" drifted over her.  
  
_I have sinned, dear Father_  
_Father, I have sinned_  
_Try and help me, Father_  
_Won't you let me in?_  
  
Ronnie's heart sunk slightly. How very relevant to her situation. Maybe she should have stayed in the bathroom.  
  
Looking out onto the stage, Ronnie saw John lick his fingers quickly, to unstick his guitar strings, before continuing to play. He looked their way, and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"He needs to concentrate more on the fact that he has a big bass solo coming up, and less on the fact that you just threw up," Ratty noted.  
  
Ronnie gave John a thumbs up and a weak smile to let him know she was fine, before letting her gaze drift out onto the audience. She could see the first couple rows, and it always warmed her heart to see the fans responding so enthusiastically to the band.  
  
But very suddenly, she saw a familiar face - a face she had never expected to see again.  
  
As if in a trance, Ronnie stepped closer and closer to the edge of the stage, wanting to get a closer look while remaining out of sight. It _was_ him. In the front row of a Queen concert, rocking out and having the time of his life.  
  
Ronnie felt hope surge throughout her. Maybe, just maybe...  
  
The man in question just happened to be the father of the little bundle of joy she was growing in her belly. What if she reunited with him tonight, and told him her news, and what if he reacted favorably? What if he wanted to raise it as his own? Then this all wouldn't be so difficult, she could still work after the baby was delivered, and she wouldn't feel so alone, and society wouldn't look down on her...  
  
At that moment, he turned her way, and recognition lit up his face. He waved, and unable to stop the stupid grin that spread across her face, she waved back.  
  
_Father please forgive me_  
_You know you'll never leave me_  
_Please will you direct me in the right way?_  
  
Ronnie felt Ratty gently pulling her away, back into the shadows of the backstage area. She suddenly felt like anything was possible. It was complete serendipity, perhaps this was meant to happen, and perhaps she would live happily ever after.  
  
She supposed in time, she would even grow to love him.

 _Liar, that's what they keep calling me_  
_Liar, liar, liar_  
  
Ronnie was so busy spinning her fairy tell ending that she was completely oblivious to Ratty's strange stare and John's confused glance. She crawled back onto the heavy equipment case, and allowed herself to dream.  
  
\---  
  
Well after the show had ended, once everything had been disassembled and packed up, Ronnie heard exactly what she had been waiting to hear.  
  
"Visitors for Ronnie?" a tall security guard said loudly, with a slightly bewildered look on his face.  
  
"Yes!" Ronnie said, unable to contain her excitement. "Yes, yes, that's me!"  
  
She stepped forward eagerly, once again unaware of the presence of Ratty and John, this time lounging in chairs in the hallway a few feet away as they waited for everyone else to finish what they were doing.  
  
Unimpressed, the security guard waved vaguely at two people who had followed him, before turning and going back the way he came. Delighted, Ronnie smiled as the man from the audience walked her way. Her smile faltered slightly when she saw that he was accompanied by a female, but she told herself not to jump to conclusions. Perhaps it was his sister, cousin, friend...it could be anyone, really.  
  
"Ronnie!" the man exclaimed, holding out his arms with a giant grin, and Ronnie ran into them without thinking twice.  
  
"Steve!" she said, hugging him tightly. "What a surprise!"  
  
"I didn't know you worked for Queen!" Steve pulled away to get a good look at her. "What a cool job!"  
  
"It's the best!" Ronnie said and she meant it.  
  
At that moment, the woman next to Steve cleared her throat, and Steve suddenly remembered he had forgotten something - or someone.  
  
"Forgive me," he said quickly. "Ursula, this is Ronnie. Ronnie, this is Ursula...my wife."  
  
Ronnie's smile slowly disappeared, as Ursula gave her a cold smile. Wife? She hadn't known that he already had a wife. She suddenly felt very cold, like someone was squeezing her heart with two icy hands. What was that terrible noise? Oh right, all of her hopes were crashing down at once and she had to silently remind herself to swallow.  
  
She forced a smile back onto her face. "Nice to meet you," Ronnie said politely to Steve's _wife_.  
  
"Likewise," Ursula replied tartly. "Tell me, how do you know my husband?"  
  
Ronnie looked at Steve, but he was gazing back at her with those lovely brown eyes, in no apparent hurry to answer. Why wasn't he saying anything? Once again feeling very alone, Ronnie turned back to Ursula.  
  
"We're old friends," she lied, feeling very inadequate. Steve's wife was _beautiful_ , with her black jeans, leather boots, sleek brown hair and perfectly manicured fingers. Ronnie suddenly felt very plain indeed, with her wild blond hair, torn jeans, and the concert t-shirt that was two sizes too big and tightened at the waist with the elastic band that should have been holding back her hair. She slid her hands into her back pockets, to hide her nails, which she had gotten into the habit of biting lately.  
  
Steve nodded with a tight-lipped smile and Ursula smirked. "How nice," she said, shooting a sideways glance at her husband.  
  
The reunion that Ronnie had hoped would be so happy had turned dreadfully awkward. She was quite relieved when Steve announced they had dinner plans.  
  
"But maybe I'll run into you again sometime soon!" he added with a charming smile.  
  
Ronnie tried to smile. _I sure as hell hope not._ "S-sure, maybe."  
  
Steve waved goodbye and walked away with his _wife_. When they were halfway down the hall, Ursula turned around and gave Ronnie an icy stare, before turning and wrapping an arm around Steve. Within the span of a few seconds, they were gone.  
  
Ronnie stood staring after them, hands clasped, trying to breath. He had a _wife_? He had never told her that. She had been trying to convince herself for weeks that she wasn't some kind of whore, but now she certainly felt like one. Her eyes filled with hot tears as she realized she was also a homewrecker.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie turned at the sound of John's soft voice and stared at the two guys, still sitting in the hall on uncomfortable, hard folding chairs. They had witnessed that entire painful scene, Ronnie realized, and she had never wanted so badly to crawl into a hole and die as she did at that moment.  
  
"Who was that?" Ratty asked curiously.  
  
"An old friend." Ronnie realized she was lying again but this time to her friends. "Excuse me," she whispered, intent on hurrying away before she burst into tears and embarrassed herself further.  
  
"Wait!" Ratty said suddenly and Ronnie stopped and slowly turned back.  
  
"We'll see you later?" Ratty asked with a hopeful smile.  
  
Confused, Ronnie stared at them. Later? What was happening...oh, right. The party celebrating the end of the tour.  
  
"I'm not going," she said quickly, dismayed to find that her voice sounded thick and congested, like she had already been crying forever. Perhaps she had.  
  
"But - " Ratty protested.  
  
"Ratty, I don't think - " John began quietly.  
  
" - it's just that you're my wing woman," Ratty finished. "What will I do without you?"  
  
It's true that Ratty had been talking about this final party incessantly. And quite frankly, at the moment, it was easier to agree to go than to think of a reason not to.  
  
Ronnie nodded. Her nose was starting to run, and she desperately needed a tissue...and to relieve her bladder. "I"ll be back in a few," she said, before taking off down the hall, feeling two pairs of very worried eyes on her back.  
  
\---  
  
That was how, hours later, Ronnie found herself sitting alone on the cold stone steps that led to the back door of the club. The party - which before would have been so amusing - had become unbearable, and she had snuck out to the small convenience store across the street, where she had emerged with a jar of pickles.  
  
Now, Ronnie stretched her legs out on the stone ledge of the staircase and popped open the jar. With the first crunchy bite, Ronnie felt slightly better. Everyone else could have their alcohol-fueled celebrations; she was quite fine with her pickle-juiced pity party.  
  
"Missing all the fun?"  
  
Ronnie jumped slightly, spilling pickle juice on her jeans. She turned quickly and saw John leaning against the building's brick facade, arms crossed and watching her with an amused expression.  
  
Ronnie shoved the rest of the pickle in her mouth and began dabbing hopelessly at the wet spots on her legs with her oversized concert t-shirt. "I'm having plenty of fun."  
  
John raised his eyebrows as approached her, and upon seeing her wet jeans, quickly looked down. "I'm sorry," he said. "I-I didn't mean to startle you."  
  
"Not at all," she said, giving up on drying herself off and offering the jar to John. "Pickle?"  
  
John politely shook his head and smiled. "No, thank you," he said as he climbed the steps and sat down next to her. Ronnie screwed the lid back onto her pickle jar and placed it between them. They sat in companionable silence as a cool breeze ruffled the nearby trees. Slightly chilly, Ronnie shifted slightly, drawing her knees up, and managing to knock over her pickle jar, which she had placed too close to the edge of the stone precipice.  
  
John lunged forward and caught it, but the jar fell off and pickles and juice went everywhere. Dismayed, Ronnie stared at the pickle casualties on the steps. She couldn't even screw a lid on a jar properly these days.  
  
John held the half empty jar up to her with an apologetic look and as she thanked him and leaned over to take it, she knew the bright street lamp above her was showing him her red eyes and tired expression.  
  
"Something has upset you terribly tonight," he said quietly.  
  
_Don't cry. Make a pickle joke, and don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.  
_  
"I'm fine," Ronnie said, hoping she sounded convincing. She could tell by John's silence that he didn't believe her.  
  
"Truly," she insisted. "Good friends - " and she poked him gently - "good snacks" - she held up her sad jar of pickles - "and it's a beautiful night."  
  
Right on cue, she felt raindrops on her face. She didn't feel at all surprised, as this seemed to be her luck lately.  
  
"If you'd like, I could bring you back to the hotel," John offered.  
  
The rain would get steadier, and Ronnie didn't want to go back into the building. It was either the obnoxiousness of the party, or the quiet of the hotel room, and she wasn't sure which one would make her feel lonelier.  
  
"But Ratty..." Ronnie trailed off, remembering she was supposed to be his wing woman tonight and every night and she was failing miserably.  
  
"Believe me," John said with a small smile. "Ratty is very distracted right now. He won't notice we're gone."  
  
"But don't you want to stay?" Ronnie asked curiously.  
  
John stood up and reached out his hand to her with a smile. "I think I'd rather take a walk in the rain with a good friend."  
  
Ronnie tossed her jar of pickles into the nearby garbage can and gratefully took his hand, allowing him to lead her down the steps, over to the street, and into the rain.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie watched as John pressed the elevator button for the fifth floor. She hesitantly lifted her finger. Should she reach across him and press the button for the third floor? Or clear her throat loudly? Or say outloud, like a normal person would, "Third floor, please!" Was it his intention to bring her to his hotel room, or did he merely forget?  
  
And most importantly, why was she debating this? Where had this sudden indecision come from? Oh right. Baby on the way.  
  
But...why would he want to bring her up to his hotel room? She was weepy, and not any fun, and smelled like pickles...She could let him take her to the fifth floor, and then inconspicuously sneak down the stairway...  
  
John looked over at that moment and smiled. "I thought maybe you'd like a cup of tea? If I remember right, your room doesn't have any..." he trailed off uncertainly.  
  
Ronnie mentally kicked herself. She needed to stop mistrusting people so much. This was just _Deaky_ , who only wanted to make her a cup of tea.  
  
Smiling back, Ronnie nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you."  
  
Once in the band's hotel room - or suite rather, because it consisted of a sitting room, kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom - John disappeared into a bedroom and came out with a blanket. He shyly wrapped it around her, and Ronnie gratefully clung to it. They were both damp from the rain, and Roger had left the air conditioning on at full speed.  
  
Waiting for her cup of tea, Ronnie sat on the couch and turned on the television, to distract her from her thoughts. Although there were many more channels than her own hotel room offered, she put it on the one channel she usually got - maybe because it made her feel at home? She curled up on one side of the sofa and tried to concentrate on the screen.  
  
_Whore. Homewrecker.  
_  
Ronnie squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she should talk to someone about what had happened. Maybe it would ease some of her guilt. But at the same time, she didn't want anyone looking at her any differently. She knew she shouldn't, but she cared too much about what people thought of her.  
  
John returned at that moment, and handed her a cup of tea, as well as a plate with cheese on toast. "It's my favorite," he explained. "I thought you might be hungry because you lost most of your pickles..."  
  
Ronnie's eyes filled with tears. Deaky was much too sweet and she did not deserve it, but she took the cup and plate with a heartfelt thank you.  
  
She hadn't told John, but cheese on toast was one of her favorites, too. She bit into it, trying to blink back her tears.  
  
"Is it too hot?" John asked suddenly.  
  
Ronnie looked over at him, still in the action of biting into her toast.  
  
"The toast," he said quickly. "It's just, your eyes are tearing up and..."  
  
Closing her eyes, Ronnie felt two tears slide down her cheek. She tore her bite of toast away with her teeth and chewed it quickly, lest she make her dinner more salty with her inconvenient crying.  
  
"No," she whispered. "It's perfect, thank you." She stared into her cup of tea, practically feeling the waves of alarm radiating off of John.  
  
After a few moments, she felt a weight next to her, and looking over, came almost nose to nose with John. He had moved closer to her and his eyes were brimming with concern. Sighing, she took a sip of her tea. She had to put all of the drama she had produced to rest.  
  
"Let's just say that tonight I learned that someone I know is not who I thought he was," Ronnie said. "And that I'm not who I thought I was, either." She held her toast out to John, and he took a bite, before handing it back to her. She finished it off and after putting her plate on the side table, wrapped her hands around her cup of tea.  
  
"Please don't be too hard on yourself," John said softly, and Ronnie gave him a sad smile. He had seen right through her.  
  
"My parents had wanted me to be a Catholic school teacher," she said, gazing into space and feeling her heart go back in time. "And for awhile, I did train to be one. Let's just say I did something very un-Catholic and they'd be very disappointed.  
"  
"It can't be any worse than what's happening at that party right now," John pointed out and Ronnie looked over at him in surprise. He was right...she could only imagine the shenanigans that were occurring at that very moment.  
  
"I think you're a really..." John swallowed hard, before continuing, "...a really special person, Ronnie, and I don't think anyone could be disappointed in you." He dropped his gaze, so that he was also staring into her cup of tea.  
  
Ronnie bit down on her lip hard, to keep from crying. John may not have known it, but his words were exactly the balm that her soul so desperately needed.  
  
"Thank you, Deaky," she said, looking up at him. "That means more than you know."  
  
John's smile lit up his entire face and Ronnie felt that her evening had been saved. For the rest of the night, they watched - and made fun of - her selected channel on the television and cursed Roger's choice of air conditioning setting, though they didn't bother to change it. Eventually, they both fell asleep.  
  
When Freddie, Brian, and Roger returned to the hotel suite in the early morning hours, they found John and Ronnie still sitting side by side on the couch, in the dim glow of the television light. In sleep, Ronnie's head had dropped to John's shoulder, and John's cheek was resting against her forehead.  
  
The three bandmates looked at the scene, a bit dumbfounded, before looking at each other.  
  
"This is much too precious," Freddie whispered, as Brian took his camera off of a nearby table and snapped a shot of them.  
  
"I hope he doesn't drool in her hair," Roger whispered back.  
  
"I'm going to put her in my bed," Brian said very quietly, as he leaned over and gently lifted her off of the couch. "She has to drive the equipment truck home tomorrow and I'm sure she won't appreciate a stiff neck."  
  
Freddie and Roger nodded in agreement, and gently woke John, each wrapping an arm around him and pulling him off of the couch. In the morning, they would joke about how they had been the drunk ones, but had to put _him_ to bed.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie woke to a stream of sunlight bursting across her pillow and she squinted irritably, pulling the blanket up over her head. It's not that she didn't appreciate rays of sunshine, but it was so early, and she was so tired, and...  
  
Inhaling deeply, she realized her pillow didn't smell like...her. It smelled very nice, but it wasn't the scent of her own hair, and peeking over the blankets, she saw that she was not in her own hotel room.  
  
Horrified, she pulled the blanket over her head again. Why was she waking up in someone else's bed? Had she made bad decisions again? Feeling her face turning red, she ran her hands down her body. She was still fully clothed, with the exception of her shoes which were nowhere to be found, so that was good news. She rolled over very slowly, as if any sudden movements would set off a ticking time bomb, and stretched an arm out. The other side of the bed was empty. Even better.  
  
At this point, she was feeling sufficiently brave enough to chance another peek over the blankets, and her heart almost exploded in relief at what she saw. In the other bed was Roger, deeply asleep with limbs flung every which way.  
  
The previous evening's events came back to her then, and she found she was still clinging tightly to Deaky's words. _I think you're a really special person, Ronnie, and I don't think anyone could be disappointed in you.  
_  
Feeling lighter than she had in weeks, Ronnie rolled out of the bed and picked up her shoes. She tiptoed to the door and upon opening it, saw Brian asleep on the couch. _Ah ha,_ she thought. _So that's whose bed I woke up in._  
  
But she was grateful, and she smiled as she quietly slipped out of the hotel room - just like the four boys had only a few mornings before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Steve's wife is named after the villain in The Little Mermaid. And Steve's name might sound a tad familiar, as well ("Steve walks warily down the street..") Yay for significance! Thank you for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

"This isn't the feesh."  
  
Ronnie stared down at the customer's plate, perplexed. There was most certainly a fish there, in a blanket of some kind of nasty sauce. "Yes it is," she replied.  
  
"No," he insisted in his strong foreign accent. "No, it's not."  
  
 _Well, if that's not a fish then I don't know what the hell you want_ , Ronnie thought to herself irritably, and wondered why she even took her diner job back in the first place. Oh, that's right - to earn money to support herself and the little monster inside of her while Queen wasn't touring.  
  
She knew she should be very grateful. A friend of hers owned the diner, which was only a convenient five minute walk from her flat, and it was extremely generous of him to let her have her job back every time tour season ended. But she had only been back from the tour for a week and already the customers were wearing her down with their demands and their _feesh_ and...  
  
The customer was pointing at one of the small framed advertisements that adorned every table in the diner. "The feesh," he said, and Ronnie saw the picture was of a giant bowl of ice cream, sprinkled with Swedish fish.  
  
Her heart sunk. _Of course_ , she thought. _The feesh, that's right. Whose idea was it again to advertise this strange dessert?_  
  
Ronnie leaned down and gave the confused customer her best sympathetic face and toothiest smile and hoped she was radiating out beams of perfect customer service. "Oh, _that_ fish!" she nodded in agreement, and the man grinned back, nodding along with her.   
  
"I am so sorry," she said, and the kind customer waved her apology away. "Let me go get you the right fish."  
  
The customer instantly lifted his plate of fish to her, and the aroma hit Ronnie in the face. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she took the plate and hurried away.  
  
She ran past the bar area, where she quickly passed the plate to Lou, her friend and the owner of the establishment. "He wants the ice cream fish," she said quickly, not even noticing the blonde young man sitting at the counter, who should have been very familiar to her. She made it to the ladies' room just in time.  
  
After about five minutes, Ronnie emerged guiltily from the restroom. Lou poked his head out from the kitchen, before coming into the small hallway to join her.  
  
"Ronnie, love," he said gently. "You can't go and vomit every time a customer orders fish."  
  
"I know, Lou," she agreed. "And I'm sorry. It's just that I've developed an aversion to certain foods. It's all a part of the...process." She had already been up front with Lou about her predicament and he had been very supportive.  
  
"Well you only have an hour left," Lou said, glancing at his watch. "We'll close at midnight and then you can go home and curse fish there."  
  
Ronnie couldn't help but smile.  
  
"Oh, which reminds me," Lou jabbed a thumb back towards the counter. "There's some guy at the counter requesting you. You better go see what he wants, because he won't stop drumming on the counter top with his knife and fork."  
  
Ronnie felt her entire demeanor brighten. She only knew one blonde who liked to drum on things, and she couldn't deny it - she really missed the band already. She hurried out to the counter, where Roger was sitting, drumming away.  
  
"Roger!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here!?"  
  
"I just happened to be in the area and thought I'd stop by," Roger grinned and put down his silverware. "We haven't heard from you in ages and were starting to get worried."  
  
Ronnie smiled at him in disbelief. "It's only been one week."  
  
"Yes, well, a lot can happen in a week."  
  
"Well, so far I've started working at the diner again, and developed a distaste for fish."  
  
"So I saw," Roger laughed, and Ronnie's face turned red.  
  
Roger leaned closer. "Do you always work this late?" he whispered.  
  
"Yes," she whispered back. "It's my regular shift."  
  
"And then you walk home by yourself in the dark?"  
  
"Yes...why are we whispering?"  
  
"I'm going to walk you home tonight, then," Roger said, a bit louder.  
  
"I really appreciate that, Rog, but I don't get out for another hour."  
  
"I can wait," Roger said patiently, picking up his knife and fork again.  
  
When Ronnie realized he was going to start drumming, she asked quickly, "Can I get you anything while you wait?"  
  
Roger glanced around, before turning his attention to the little frame on the counter. "I'd like that, please."  
  
Ronnie looked at the frame with the picture of the Swedish fish covered ice cream. "You can't be serious."  
  
"One feesh please!" Roger gave her a cheeky grin.  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "You got it!" she said and left Roger to his silverware concerto.  
  
Exactly an hour later, Roger was waiting for her outside of the diner's entrance. Ronnie gave him an "I'm ready!" smile and Roger shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and they were off.  
  
The first two and a half minutes passed by uneventfully, as Roger updated Ronnie on the band's life and explained how they were preparing to go into the studio to record their third album. The last two and a half minutes were slightly more exciting, as a very tense Roger led Ronnie past a man asking for money, two inebriated men falling into brick walls, a small brawl, and through a cloud of pot smoke.  
  
Ronnie laughed at the look on Roger's face when they arrived at her door. "Relax," she said gently. "Usually they're harmless."  
  
" _Usually_?" Roger interrupted. "You mean this has happened before?"  
  
"This happens all the time."  
  
Roger's mouth fell open. "That's it, you're never walking home by yourself again."  
  
"But Roger - "  
  
"We're going to take it in shifts, all of us!"  
  
No matter how much Ronnie insisted, Roger would not change his mind, and when she stepped out of the diner at midnight the following night and saw Brian leaning against a lamp post, she knew Roger was being true to his word.  
  
With a friendly smile, Brian held out his arm. "Madam?"  
  
Ronnie accepted, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, and they began to walk down the empty street. "You don't have to walk me home, Brian."  
  
"Of course I do," Brian said. "Roger told me what happened last night."  
  
Ronnie opened her mouth to protest and at that moment, every lamp post and every light of every window went out, leaving them in total darkness.  
  
"This is very unsafe," Brian noted as they stopped and tried to take in their surroundings.  
  
"It's just a power outage," Ronnie said reasonably. "It happens all the time." She realized she had said the same words to Roger last night, and wished she could take them back.  
  
"Does it now?" Brian said in surprise, and she knew he was already making plans in his mind to arrange for tomorrow night's escort home.  
  
They started to walk very slowly, making their way carefully down the sidewalk, until Brian suddenly looked up and let out a fascinated exclamation. "Ronnie, look!"  
  
Ronnie looked up and saw a blanket of stars in the black night sky, stretching clear across the horizon. She gasped in surprise. "It's beautiful!"  
  
"Exquisite," Brian agreed and pointed to one section of the sky. "That's the little dipper, right there." He then proceeded to point out other constellations and star patterns, and Ronnie followed his finger from one point of light to the next, unable to look away.  
  
"You know, I don't think I've ever truly taken the time to look at the night sky," she said ruefully.  
  
"That's probably because you aren't noticing it, with the distraction of all of the artificial lighting," Brian said, and Ronnie turned to him suddenly.  
  
"Didn't you go to school for this, Brian?" Ronnie asked curiously, and when he nodded, she asked, "What made you change your mind?"  
  
"I found something I loved more than the stars," he said, and looked down at her with a smile. "My guitar."  
  
At that moment, the lights flickered back on, and they looked at each other in disappointment. Brian made sure Ronnie's arm was securely in his, before giving her a regretful smile and leading her down the street that was bathed in bright florescent light.  
  
\---  
  
The next night brought a downpour of rain, and as Ronnie pulled on a rain jacket she scolded herself for not bringing an umbrella, but then realized that the terrible weather likely meant she'd be walking home by herself and feeling independent again.  
  
But when she stepped out of the diner at 12 a.m. sharp, she saw Freddie was waiting for her under an over-sized umbrella. He gave her a giant smile, not even bothering to hide the teeth he was usually so self conscious of, and holding out a hand, pulled her under the shelter of the umbrella.  
  
After a few moments of walking through the rain they came upon a giant puddle, and handing Ronnie the umbrella, Freddie leaped across it gracefully, landing on the tip toes of his right foot, with his left leg pulled up to his stomach and his arms flung out into the rain. He turned around with a grin and shouted, "Your turn, dear!"  
  
Ronnie, bursting with excitement because she couldn't remember the last time she'd really had any fun, backed up a few steps to give herself a running start. She needed it, since she certainly didn't have Freddie's long legs. She jumped across the puddle, just barely making it to the other side, and imitated Freddie's pose perfectly.  
  
"You're a natural darling!" Freddie exclaimed, and escorted her further along the rain-soaked street.  
  
The next puddle was slightly smaller, but still rather large compared to other traditional puddles. Freddie turned, facing Ronnie, and stepped backward over the puddle, so that his back leg was straight but his front leg was bent slightly with the ball of his foot pressing into the wet pavement. He then bent backwards and turned his face up to the rain.  Ronnie stared at him in amazement as he straddled the puddle in this way. Freddie then effortlessly sprang back up and gave her an encouraging smile.  
  
Turning her back to Freddie, Ronnie stepped backward over the puddle with one leg and began to lean backwards into what was proving to be a ridiculous back bend. She felt a slight pain in her back - which honestly had been happening more often since her middle had been expanding - and felt herself begin to fall over to the side.  
  
Freddie immediately ran to her side and reached out his arms to her, and Ronnie clung to him, succeeding only in pulling him down with her into the puddle. They stared at each other in wet shock for a moment, before bursting into a fit of laughter.  
  
Lifting his face back to the rain, Freddie sang out with a joyous, "Ay oh!"  
  
"Ay oh?" Ronnie sang back.  
  
Freddie helped her out of the puddle and dripping all the way home, they sang.  
  
\---  
  
The following night was bright and cold, and as a result, the diner wasn't terribly busy. Ronnie sat at a stool at the counter and watched her escort for that night - John Deacon - sitting at a table, hunched over a tiny notebook.  
  
She rested her chin on her fists, trying to figure out exactly what he was doing. Every so often, he would scribble something down, but for the most part, he was lost in thought.  
  
" _Ronnie_!"  
  
Ronnie jumped, her hands flying to her heart, before turning and seeing Ratty with a typical shit eating grin spread across his face.  
  
"Ratty!"  
  
Still grinning, Ratty leaned on the counter. "What were you doing? You looked like you were about to eat Deaky."  
  
Ronnie rolled her eyes. "I was just trying to figure out what he's been doing for the past half an hour over there."  
  
Ratty glanced over his shoulder. "Oh," he said reasonably. "The band asked if he could try and write a song. Evidently, he's taking it very seriously."  
  
At that moment, Freddie, Brian, and Roger arrived, and John quickly tucked his notebook into his jacket. As the band and Ratty enjoyed a very late dinner, Ronnie found herself making repeat trips to the kitchen. She was already beginning to experience food cravings, and this week...it was toast.  
  
\---  
  
"So how do we think she's doing?" Freddie asked eagerly, as they watched Ronnie disappear into the kitchen again.  
  
"As well as can be expected?" John suggested from his end of the booth.  
  
"She must be protected at all costs," Brian murmured with the utmost seriousness.  
  
Roger, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, squirmed uncomfortably at Brian's words.  
  
"Yes, Roger?" Brian said. "You've obviously been wanting to say something for the past half an hour."  
  
"I've been thinking..." Roger began.  
  
"Oh, not again," Freddie said with a grin.  
  
Roger shot him a look, before beginning again. "I've been thinking that...under the circumstances and everything, perhaps I should..."  
  
The rest of the table stared at him, waiting.  
  
"Well, spit it out!" Freddie said, whacking him on the back, as if this would make the words fly out faster. "The suspense is killing me, darling."  
  
"...perhaps I should marry Ronnie," Roger finished.  
  
John choked on his drink. Ratty covered his mouth, his eyes tearing with the effort of trying not to laugh outloud.  
  
Brian stared at the drummer for a moment, before nodding with the tiniest of smiles. "That's a good one, Roger."  
  
"I'm serious, Brian!"  
  
"You cannot possibly be serious," Brian argued. "Roger, you do know that if you married Ronnie, you'd have to stop your nightly flings?"  
  
"That means no more women," Freddie whispered into Roger's ear, and Roger scowled.  
  
"A sacrifice I'm willing to make," Roger said stubbornly.  
  
"Very sweet of you, darling," Freddie said, patting his shoulder, "but I must remind everyone that anyone who wishes to marry our Ronnie needs to do so out of love. Not sympathy."   
  
John opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Freddie continued, "Besides, we all know that if anyone should marry Ronnie, it should be Ratty."  
  
"Excuse me?" Ratty exclaimed.  
  
"You heard me, darling," Freddie said with a self-satisfied smile.  
  
Ratty snorted. "If you think I'd marry that woman, you're mad. I love her dearly but she has become rather difficult."  
  
"What do you mean?" Brian asked curiously.  
  
Ratty tried to think of an example, before saying, "Well, she's all of a sudden very moody, and stubborn. She's not even three months along and she's already canceled her first before-baby appointment."  
  
"You mean she rescheduled it?" John asked.  
  
"No," Ratty replied. "She cancelled it."  
  
"Why?" Roger asked curiously.  
  
Ratty shrugged. "You'll have to ask her yourself."  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie frowned at the loaf of bread in her hands as she agonized over what to put on her toast this time. Cheese, peanut butter, regular butter, almond butter, jam, hazlenut...she was running out of options. And this whole indecision thing was beginning to get very old, very fast. Just as she was about to begin opening cabinets to get some ideas, she heard her name being called. Not bothering to put the loaf of bread down - and not realizing she was taking it with her - Ronnie left the kitchen.  
  
The table in need was the one with the band and Ratty - she should have known. As she approached, Roger leaned forward with a grin. "Taking your loaf of bread for a walk?"  
  
Ronnie glanced down at the bread in the crook of her arm, and blushed.  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said seriously. "Is it true you've cancelled your first antenatal appointment?"  
  
Ronnie looked surprised, before turning to Ratty with a glare. "I wonder where you could have gotten that idea." Ratty had the grace to at least look down in shame.  
  
Brian leaned closer and said very quietly, "Is transportation an issue? Because you know we'd gladly take you, if you needed us to."  
  
"N-no," Ronnie stammered, feeling everyone's eyes on her. "I was planning on walking."  
  
"A grand idea!" Freddie exclaimed. "So darling, by all means, reschedule."  
  
If no one had noticed Ronnie was uncomfortable before, it was evident now. "I...I might. Perhaps. Maybe." _Or not_.  
  
"You're wasting your breath," Ratty said to the table. "I've already been through this."  
  
" _Ratty_ ," Ronnie said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Well, it's true, Ronnie," Ratty said, completely serious. "I argued with you until I was blue in the face. And you wouldn't budge."  
  
"It's just an _appointment_ ," Ronnie said desperately. "I appreciate your concern, guys, but it's not the end of the world if I miss an appointment."  
  
"But isn't this kind of appointment very important?" Brian insisted gently.  
  
"It's not mandatory," Ronnie whispered anxiously. Why was she so nervous? _Stupid pregnancy_ , she thought. She was being much too defensive. Although she felt like they were teaming up against her, she knew that was an irrational thought. They were her friends...right? She felt tears prickling her eyes.  
  
Freddie reached across the table. "Darling, it's all _right_."  
  
Ronnie allowed Freddie to take her hand, but didn't trust herself to say anything further.  
  
"We are not trying to force you to do anything you don't want to," Freddie assured her. "We just..."  
  
"...care about you," John finished.  
  
Ronnie nodded her understanding, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She then turned a wrathful gaze down to Ratty. _You started this_ , she mentally cursed him. _How could you?_  
  
Ratty stared back at her. "Reschedule the appointment and walk, Ronnie. But we really would be happy to take you." He lightened up. "Because eventually you'll get fatter and it'll be too far for you to walk."  
  
Ronnie's face darkened and one tear escaped down her face as she yelled, "I'm not fat yet, Ratty!" and flung the loaf of bread at him. It hit Ratty in the chest with a thud, and Ronnie turned on her heel and fled to the kitchen.  
  
The table sat in a stunned silence for a few moments.  
  
"Oh for fuck's sake, Ratty," Freddie finally muttered.  
  
Brian had put an exasperated hand to his face, and Roger was trying his best not to appear amused, although he clearly was. John looked anxiously towards the kitchen, unconsciously inching his way closer to the end of the booth, and almost pushing Roger off the edge of the seat in the process.  
  
" _Deaky_!" Roger said with a laugh, propelling John back to his side of the booth. "She's going to be _fine_."  
  
"I'm not sorry," Ratty said defiantly, before thinking about it and admitting, "Well, maybe a little."  
  
\---   
  
While escaping to the kitchen, Ronnie bumped into Lou, who had just walked in the front door of the diner. He gave her an incredulous look.  
  
"Did you just throw a loaf of bread at a customer?"  
  
"He's not a customer," Ronnie said angrily, before disappearing through the double doors. Which of course, made no sense at all, because Ratty _was_ a paying customer. She just wished he wasn't.  
  
Lou followed her into the kitchen. "Ronnie, love," he said gently. "I think you should go home."  
  
Ronnie turned to him in surprise. "I still have half an hour left."  
  
"Even so."  
  
"Is it the bread?" Ronnie whispered. "Because I'll replace it."  
  
"I don't care about the bread," Lou said, wiping one of Ronnie's tears away. "I care about you and I think you've been working too much. I want you to go home and get some rest." He thought for a moment. "And I want you to take the next two days off."  
  
"No," Ronnie pleaded. "Please, Lou. That's too much time off. I don't want to be alone for that long."  
  
Lou looked at the kitchen door meaningfully. "It doesn't seem like you're alone," he said. "You've got quite a support network, I'd say."  
  
Ronnie shook her head, hoping that Lou would reconsider, even though she knew he wouldn't.  
  
"Go," Lou insisted gently. "I'll see you on Sunday."  
  
Defeated, Ronnie nodded tearfully, before taking off her apron and hanging it up. She pulled on her jacket, contemplating escaping home through the back door of the kitchen, where she wouldn't have to see anyone.  
  
But Ronnie knew that would be the easy way out, and it wouldn't be kind. She wiped her eyes and reluctantly made her way out to the dining area and to the dreaded table of guys.  
  
Not looking anyone in the eye, she said quietly, "I'm going home early. I'll see you guys later." And, not leaving room for anyone to answer, she turned quickly and practically ran out the front door.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie wasn't even ten feet away from the diner when she heard footsteps behind her, and someone shouting, "Ronnie, wait!"  
  
Turning, she came face to face with Brian, who took her hands with an extremely worried expression.  
  
"Ronnie," he said very gently. "Please tell me, what's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing," Ronnie whispered. "I just don't want to go."  
  
"There's a reason," Brian insisted. "I know there is. I've never seen you react so forcefully to a situation before."  
  
Ronnie looked away, back at the diner, as she tried to think of what to tell him. She hated it, but sometimes she felt like she had to choose her words carefully. Anything she said could potentially lead to a conversation about the night the baby was conceived, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs.  
  
Sensing her indecision, Brian pulled Ronnie onto a deserted side street. Still holding her hands, he waited patiently.  
  
"I..." Ronnie began and then stopped, staring at her feet. Why was this so _difficult_? Brian squeezed her hands and she looked up.  
  
"I'm afraid," she finally said.  
  
"You don't have to be," Brian said emphatically. "We're here for you, Ronnie. Utilize us."  
  
"I'm afraid of what they'll think there," Ronnie said. "I'm afraid they'll ask questions and that they'll look down on me because...because..."  
  
"Because there's no father?" Brian guessed.  
  
Ronnie nodded.  
  
"Let me take you," Brian said, absolutely determined. "Just this once. And if it's that horrible, I won't make you go again."  
  
Ronnie raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I mean it," Brian said with a smile. "And after, I'll even take you out to breakfast."  
  
Ronnie sighed. She could never deny food, and especially not now. "All right," she agreed.  
  
"You'll reschedule in the morning and let me know the date and time? Promise me, Ronnie."  
  
"I promise, Brian," Ronnie gave him a smile.  
  
At that moment, they heard a bang at the other end of the street. Ronnie looked in the direction of the noise nervously, and back at Brian. "What was that?"  
  
They didn't have much time to speculate, because at that moment, John appeared.  
  
"It's my turn to walk you home," he said, slightly out of breath. "And Roger wouldn't let me out of the booth."  
  
Brian put Ronnie's hands into John's. "I entrust her to you, Deaky."  
  
John nodded quickly, and led her out of the side street, as Brian went back to the diner.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie turned back to Brian.  
  
"Don't forget...tomorrow."  
  
Ronnie smiled and nodded. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading everyone! It's truly appreciated. Things are going to get a bit fun next, before the angst comes.


	5. Chapter 5

Because of high demand, Ronnie wasn't able to get an appointment for at least a month and a half, and for that, she was grateful. As the second month of her pregnancy crawled into the third month, and her fourth month loomed ever closer, she continued to work and to spend time with the band. She also continued to receive apologies from Ratty, who she had wholeheartedly forgiven.  
  
The day of her appointment dawned bright and sunny. She almost wished it was dark and rainy, so that the weather matched her mood. This was her thought as she squinted in the blinding light of the waiting room, which was thankfully almost empty because of how early in the morning it was.  
  
Sitting to her right was Roger, who had insisted on coming along and who also hadn't been able to sit still for the five minutes they had been there. "I don't know why," he said, turning to Ronnie and Brian, "but I'm so nervous."  
  
Brian stared at him in disbelief. " _You're_ nervous? What do you have to be nervous about, Roger?"  
  
Roger didn't get an opportunity to respond, because at that moment, a rather stern looking nurse appeared and called out, "Veronica?"  
  
Ronnie stood, and Brian and Roger followed. The nurse, clearing her throat, peered at them over her glasses while blocking the hall.  
  
"The father may come," she said briskly. "Which one of you is that?"  
  
Ronnie's heart sunk. So she was going to be alone, after all, which was _so_ disappointing because they had all talked about this on the ride over. Because she was sure that this was more of a consultation and that there would be no embarrassing examination, she had eagerly accepted the boys' offer to come into the room with her.  
  
"Well, that's the thing," Roger said to the nurse. "We don't know which one of us _is_ the father. So we'd both like to come."  
  
The nurse's mouth fell open, and Ronnie felt herself turn bright red as she prayed for the floor to open and swallow her up. "That's not true," she whispered, as she felt Brian shift uncomfortably next to her.  
  
"He's a pathological liar," Brian agreed.  
  
"All right then," the nurse said, unimpressed. "The father?"  
  
"He's in a Guatemalan prison," Roger said nervously and Ronnie wished he would stop word vomiting.  
  
"Because he's a rebellious peace activist," Brian added, trying to smooth over the mess Roger had made.  
  
"But he got caught stealing drugs," Roger continued in a pained voice. "And cows."  
  
The nurse was staring at them in disbelief.  
  
"Please," Ronnie said quietly. "They're all I have."  
  
"Lucky you," the nurse said tartly, before turning and motioning for the three of them to follow her.  
  
\---  
  
"Roger, what was that?" Brian asked, once they were all situated in the small examining room - Ronnie on the bed in just a hospital gown, and Brian and Roger sitting in chairs on either side of her.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Roger said defensively. "When I'm nervous, I get chatty.  
"  
"But what are you so nervous about?"  
  
"I'm nervous on Ronnie's behalf," Roger said testily. "It's called compassion, Brian."  
  
Brian shook his head and at that moment, there was a knock on the door, and the doctor entered. He greeted Ronnie, and then with a slight twitch of his lips (which clearly showed he was trying not to smile), he nodded at Roger and Brian. That's when Ronnie knew that the nurse had a big mouth and that the entire practice likely knew of this encounter.  
  
"All right then, Veronica," the doctor said. "Lay back please."  
  
Ronnie did as instructed.  
  
"And place your feet in the stirrups here."  
  
Feeling slightly anxious, Ronnie did so.  
  
"Now, I'm going to part your legs..."  
  
Ronnie shot up onto her elbows. "There's going to be an exam?"  
  
"Well yes," the doctor said, as if it were obvious. "This is your antenatal _exam_ , after all. Now if you'll please lay back down..."  
  
Horrified, Ronnie did as she was told. Before she could tell Roger and Brian to leave the room, the doctor was already working quickly. If she had known that there would be a pelvic examination, she would have never allowed Roger and Brian in the room with her in the first place.  
  
Staring at the ceiling, Ronnie felt cold metal and a terribly uncomfortable sensation and although she tried to keep her face calm, she couldn't help but grimace in discomfort. She was sure she was about to die of embarrassment.   
  
"So," Brian said casually. "What would you like for breakfast, Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie turned her head to look at him, amazed, but she could sense what he was doing and she appreciated it. "Pancakes," she whispered.  
  
"I want eggs," Roger said loudly.  
  
Ronnie bit her lip but it was no use - she let out a snort of laughter.  
  
The doctor tapped her knee. "Lie still please."  
  
Roger glanced quickly at the doctor, before leaning back towards Ronnie. "I have a date tonight," he whispered. "Think he can give me any tips?"  
  
" _Roger_!" Brian hissed, as Ronnie shook with silent laughter and the doctor cleared his throat loudly.  
  
The room fell uncomfortably quiet. Ronnie, trying to make the best of the situation, thought to herself that at least Roger and Brian couldn't see anything, but she knew they were occasionally glancing over at the doctor's head, just visible over her spread knees. She couldn't blame them - she'd be curious, too.  
  
"So, there's this new song we're - " Brian began, once again trying to distract her.  
  
"Doesn't that hurt?" Roger interrupted, fascinated, as the doctor removed the metal instrument and Ronnie let out a breath of relief.   
  
"I think it hurts her more than it hurts me," the doctor said dryly as Brian rolled his eyes. "You can sit up now, Veronica."  
  
The doctor announced that there was good news and bad news. The good news was that she and the baby were completely healthy. The bad news was that Ronnie would soon begin to feel the movement of the baby, but at first, she would be unable to tell if it was the baby or gas. Ronnie closed her eyes, drowning in her own humiliation. She'd never be able to look Roger or Brian in the eye again. And she was never bringing anyone with her to an appointment again, either.  
  
Of course, Brian and Roger were perfectly lovely about it all and took her out for a grand breakfast after the ordeal was over. They then invited her to the studio for a little while, which she was thrilled about. Although she had known the band for years and had seen countless performances, she had never actually watched them work.  
  
Ronnie stayed well out of the way, so that it was like she was not even there, but where she could still observe everything. The album - which was to be called _Sheer Heart Attack_ \- was still in it's earliest stages, but she enjoyed what she heard thus far. Not to mention how fun it was to watch Roger, who could not hide how pleased he was that the album was named after one of his songs.  
  
"I think we have time for one more," Brian said as the day grew late. "Deaky - how's your song coming along?"  
  
John's head snapped up. "Fine."  
  
There was a long pause as the band waited for John to elaborate, and when he did not offer anything further...  
  
"Would you like to show us, darling?" Freddie asked gently.  
  
John glanced over at Ronnie with a terrified look.   
  
"What is it, Deaky?" Roger asked, confused, following Deaky's glance. "Is it about Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie could see John's obvious torment, and she knew how painfully shy he could be, so she put her magazine down and stood up. "I'll go."  
  
"N-no," John said quickly. "No, it's not that. It's just not...ready yet."  
  
While Freddie and Roger gave each other a knowing glance, Brian nodded in understanding. "It's late anyway. We should probably get going."  
  
Ronnie hid a smile as she saw John's look of relief, and reached for her jacket.  
  
"So Ronnie, darling," Freddie said, immediately coming around and helping her into her jacket, "we'll see you at noon tomorrow?"  
  
Ronnie scrunched her nose in thought. What was noon tomorrow? She was getting awfully forgetful lately.  
  
"Oh that's right," Freddie said. "Silly me. We forgot to tell you. You have a lunch date with John and I tomorrow."  
  
"I do?"  
  
"Well, yes," Freddie said logically, taking her arm and leading her out of the studio. "If Roger and Brian can have fun with you, so can we."  
  
"The exam wasn't exactly fun," Ronnie pointed out.  
  
"Well then, one point for Deaky and I, and zero points for those two," Freddie gave Roger and Brian a disdainful look and Roger bared his teeth at their lead singer, and they all walked out into the evening sun.  
  
\---  
  
The next day, a half an hour before her lunch with John and Freddie, Ronnie was rummaging through her closet, looking for something to wear that actually fit. She had spent more time in her work clothes than anything, which were beginning to feel a bit constrictive, but only just a few days ago, she found she couldn't button up her favorite pair of jeans.  
  
The clanking of hangers filled the room as Ronnie rejected outfit after outfit, and grew increasingly frustrated. She was just about to give up, when she came across a black dress.  She stared at it for a moment. The last time she had worn it had been to some kind of fancy function, and she hadn't touched it since. It probably wouldn't fit now, but...why not? She quickly undressed, and stepped into the dress.  
  
Reaching behind to zip it, she couldn't ignore how very tight it felt. But nothing could prepare her for what she was about to see in the mirror. She turned to her reflection, and jumped back, letting out a cry of shock.  
  
To be perfectly honest, she had avoided looking at herself naked for the past month or so, and she was amazed at the change she was now seeing. Her belly was now clearly round, and protruding out a bit, and - her eyes widened in horror - her breasts were bigger, as well. When had that even happened?  
  
She turned to take a peek at her butt and groaned. She really needed to lay off the toast.  
  
As Ronnie stood, soaking in her new body shape, she suddenly burst into tears. It was like a terrible car accident - she couldn't look away no matter how she tried. And what was worse, the once flattering little black dress clung to her frame tightly, like a wet garment.  
  
Realizing she was going to do serious emotional damage if she kept looking at herself, she reached behind to unzip the dress - and pulled the zipper right off.  
Frowning, and sniffing back her tears, she sighed and flung the zipper away. No matter, she'd just pull it off. Slipping the straps off of her shoulders, she began to methodically roll the dress down, and found she couldn't get the fabric past her new enormous breasts.  
  
 _Well, let's try the other way, then_ , she thought, as she hefted the dress above her hips and tried to pull it over head. To her absolute disbelief, the dress would not budge. It was like a second skin.  
  
Further yanking and tugging did nothing and when her doorbell rang at exactly noon, Ronnie knew she had no choice. She put the straps of the dress back on her shoulders, and rolled the remained of the dress back down her hips to her knees. She slipped into a pair of sneakers, put on a coat, and went to answer the door.  
  
Freddie and John were both standing there, smiling at her, which made her heart hurt terribly. Here they were, sweet as ever, to take her out for a nice lunch, and she looked like a frosty stripper. It was a pity it was too late to cancel.  
  
"Ronnie darling," Freddie said, his smile turning from joyful to concerned. "It's sweltering outside. Won't you be much too warm in that coat?"  
  
"I...I..." Ronnie stammered, not having had time to come up with an adequate excuse.  
  
Freddie peered at her closer, taking in her bare legs and sneaker-ed feet. "Are you wearing anything under there at all, dear?"  
  
"Of course I am!" Ronnie retorted.   
  
"Are you all right, Ronnie?" John asked suddenly.  
  
Freddie gasped. "You've been crying!"  
  
"No, Ronnie lied, as John gently pushed Freddie into the flat and shut the door behind them.  
  
"What's happened?" Freddie asked firmly.  
  
Ronnie shook her head in humiliation, her face turning bright red.   
  
Freddie exchanged a quick glance with John, before turning back to Ronnie. "Is it your clothes, dear?"  
  
Ronnie bit her lip and nodded, pulling the jacket tighter around her.  
  
"Forgive me for this, darling," Freddie said, before unfolding Ronnie's arms and slipping the coat off of her shoulders to expose her revealing dress.  
  
Freddie's mouth fell open. "Look away, John," he said, turning his younger bandmate towards the door. John batted him away and turned back to Ronnie, eyes wide.  
  
"None of my clothes fit!" Ronnie exclaimed in despair, as a tear or two escaped down her cheeks.  
  
"So you decided to wear an evening dress?" Freddie asked sympathetically.  
  
" _No_ ," Ronnie protested. "No! I decided to try it on for fun..." She felt so foolish, it wasn't even remotely funny. "...and the zipper broke and now I'm...I'm stuck in it."  
  
Freddie's hand flew to his mouth to hide a smile, and John - who was more concerned at this point - tugged on his arm in warning. Ronnie stared at them in pained disbelief.  
  
"I'm sorry, darling, I don't mean to laugh at you," Freddie said quickly. "It's just...you're adorable."  
  
"I am _not_ adorable," Ronnie argued. "I'm fat and stuck and miserable!"  
  
"I think," John began, and stopped suddenly.  
  
"Yes, Deaky?" Freddie said encouragingly.  
  
"I think you're beautiful," John whispered.  
  
For the second time in the span of a few minutes, Freddie's jaw dropped. Smiling sadly, Ronnie took John's hand, and squeezed it. "Thank you, Deaky."  
  
"Change of plans," Freddie announced. "Before lunch, we're going shopping."  
  
"What?" Ronnie said, surprised.  
  
"Maternity shopping."  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "No. I'm so bad at shopping, Freddie."  
  
"Well there's no right way to do it, dear," Freddie said in surprise. "You just...do it." Then he brightened. "I'll advise you and Deaky here can carry the bags."  
  
John rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.  
  
"But first..." Freddie tapped his chin in deep thought. "How are we going to get you out of that dress?"  
  
"We?" Ronnie repeated, folding her arms to hide her gigantic new chest.  
  
"What if we snip the straps?" John suggested.  
  
Ronnie squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't think it was possible to feel even more embarrassed, but...here she was. "It's not the straps. The problem is...the rest of the dress."  
  
Freddie sighed. "It's such a lovely dress but there's no way around it. We'll need scissors, darling."  
  
Three minutes later, Ronnie was standing in her kitchen with her arms above her head and Freddie observing her like a painting.  
  
"We'll need to go from the side," he remarked. "Deaky, you'll need to hold the fabric as I cut, so that the dress doesn't fall down." He patted Ronnie's cheek. "We must preserve the poor girl's modesty."  
  
Ronnie wanted to say that, between this situation and the pelvic examination the day before, her modesty was missing in action, but she kept her mouth shut.  
  
John knelt at Ronnie's side and waited, as Freddie slipped the scissors into place beneath Ronnie's armpit. "I really hope you didn't like this dress too much," he said regretfully.  
  
"Well, I don't now," Ronnie muttered, as she heard the snipping of her dress being cut and the cold metal of the scissors on her skin.  
  
As Freddie made his way carefully down the side of her body, Ronnie caught the top of the dress before it could fall. As the scissors moved past her hip, she felt John's fingers tugging the sliced fabric back together. His hands were shaking.  
  
As soon as Freddie was done, Ronnie took the fabric from John and ran from the room. Freddie turned to John with a teasing smile. "I almost feel like that was more traumatic for you than for her."  
  
John blushed and clasped his trembling hands together.  
  
\---  
  
"It's _perfect_!"  
  
Ronnie turned at the excitement in Freddie's voice, to see what he had found that was so magnificent, and she gasped in alarm.  
  
"What is _that_?!" she asked, lunging forward to grab it and to hide it, but Freddie effortlessly evaded her hands and held the garment up to the light.  
  
"Don't you want one?" he asked in admiration.  
  
"No!" Ronnie exclaimed, trying to tug him away from the lingerie section. It was the tiniest nightgown she had ever seen, it was completely see through, and the neckline was lined in faux white fur.  
  
"Not so fast, darling," Freddie said, not budging. "Let's ask John's opinion. Deaky, what do you think?"  
  
John had been standing with his back to them (and to the lingerie section in general). He peeked over his shoulder uncomfortably. "Um..."  
  
"Freddie!" Ronnie finally was able to secure the hideous garment and place it back on the rack. "I don't have anyone to wear that for."  
  
"Not yet," Freddie insisted. "Get it anyway! If that somebody doesn't come along, then you can always give it to me."  
  
Ronnie laughed, pulling them both away. "I can really do this myself, you guys can go look at other stuff."  
  
"And miss this much fun? Not for the world, darling!" Suddenly distracted, Freddie pulled a giant pair of pants from a nearby rack, and held them against his lower half. "What do you think?"  
  
"If you try those on, they will fall right off you," Ronnie observed, not quite believing that Freddie Mercury was modeling maternity pants for her.  
  
"Then so be it, darling," Freddie grinned.  
  
It took the better part of an hour, but Ronnie finally got clothes that fit. She led a relieved John and an ecstatic Freddie out of the department store and they all proceeded to enjoy the remainder of the afternoon with lunch and a movie.  
  
It was dark when they finally began the drive home. Ronnie squirmed in the backseat, trying to ignore her suddenly full bladder - she had _just_ gone before they left the theater - and telling herself that she only needed to wait twenty minutes and she'd be home.  
  
That small hope went out the window when the car suddenly lurched and John had to pull to the side of the road. He stepped on the gas and turned they key in the ignition but the car would not start.  
  
As John and Freddie got out of the car to inspect the engine, Ronnie tumbled ungracefully out of the backseat and looked around, searching for any signs of light or life, any indication that there may be a restroom around. But there was nothing but the black night and trees and the wide open road.  
  
As John fiddled with wires under the open hood of the car and Freddie held a flashlight for him, Ronnie edged her way desperately to the woods. "I'll be right back!" she called.  
  
Freddie looked up and frowned. "Where are you going, darling?"  
  
"I need a bathroom...like, right now," Ronnie said truthfully over her shoulder as she began to make her way down the hill that led to the edge of the forest.  
  
"Very well, but if you're not back in three minutes, we're coming to get you!" Freddie shouted after her.  
  
Running through the trees, Ronnie looked around for the perfect place to pee. _Just like a dog_ , she thought sarcastically. After finding a place that was far enough away from the road, she completed her difficult task and started to make her way back to the hill.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie froze, not daring to look behind her. That was not the voice of John or Freddie and there was no one else who had any business calling her name in the middle of the woods at night.  
  
Turning very slowly, and wishing she had some kind of weapon, she was shocked to see Steve standing among the trees.  
  
" _Steve_? What are you doing here?"  
  
"I could ask you the same question," Steve replied with his usual charm, but Ronnie found she would not warm up to him this time, not now that she knew he was cheating on his wife and that he was somehow in the same forest as her, miles and miles away from where they had first met.  
  
"Can't a girl piss in the woods in peace?" Ronnie asked tartly.  
  
"Ouch," Steve remarked. "Not too happy to see me, huh?"  
  
Ronnie was silent for a moment, before saying in a low, furious voice, "Why didn't you tell me you had a wife?"  
  
Steve shrugged. "I didn't think it was important."  
  
"Yeah? Well, it was. Because I'm not that kind of girl."  
  
"No?" Steve feigned shock, before letting his gaze drop to her stomach. "Let me ask you this, though. Are you a girl who is in some kind of trouble?"  
  
Ronnie suddenly felt cold. "What do you mean?"  
  
"As in, you're expecting some kind of delivery in the next five months or so?" Steve's smile had disappeared.  
  
The fact that Steve could see this through her baggy t-shirt and that he appeared to know exactly how far along she was sent off alarm signals in Ronnie's brain. She was angry but she couldn't let him see that she was afraid.  
  
"No," she said quickly.  
  
"You're lying."  
  
"How would you know about it, even if I was?" Ronnie asked, taking a step backwards and wishing she'd chosen a closer spot to the road to relieve her bladder - a spot that wasn't down a steep hill that would now be impossible to run up.  
  
"Well," Steve reasoned as he took a step forward, closing the gap between them once more. "We shared our special night together approximately four months ago, so the timing would be right."  
  
"No," Ronnie protested hotly. "We used protection."  
  
Steve folded his arms. "No, we didn't."  
  
Ronnie's mouth dropped open. "You said we were going to."  
  
"I lied," Steve said simply.  
  
" _Why_?" Ronnie exclaimed in outrage.  
  
"Because I need a son and my wife is barren."  
  
Ronnie felt sick as she slowly realized his motives. She hadn't been a one night stand, she had been part of his twisted plan to get a child.  
  
"Ronnie?" She heard Freddie's voice from the top of the hill and felt relieved that help was near.  
  
Steve stiffened as he heard the voice and he turned back to Ronnie quickly. "Tell me, is it mine?"  
  
"No," Ronnie practically spat the word out, as she heard footsteps crunching through the leaves on the hill behind her.  
  
"Liar!" Steve said angrily.  
  
"Ronnie, is this man bothering you?" Freddie said airily as he and John approached and stood on either side of her.  
  
"He was just leaving," Ronnie said bitterly. "And so are we."  
  
"Last chance," Steve warned. "Please realize how important this is. Who does the child belong to, then?"  
  
"It's mine," John said.  
  
Ronnie's eyes widened and Freddie shook his head in amazement. "You are full of surprises today," he muttered under his breath.  
  
"I don't believe that," Steve sneered.  
  
"And why not?" Ronnie shot back.  
  
Steve fixed her with a glare that made her extremely uncomfortable. " _Prove_ it," he hissed.  
  
Realizing if she couldn't prove it, he'd never leave her alone, Ronnie turned to John, took a fistful of his shirt, and pulled him closer. Standing on her tip toes, she pressed her lips against his and tried not to think about how warm he was, how fast his heart was beating under her hand, how shocked he probably was...  
  
Gently pulling away and avoiding John's eyes, she turned and gave Steve a defiant glare, not noticing that John was still turned towards her, lips parted in disbelief, and that Freddie was wearing a huge grin.  
  
Steve held his hands up and began to back away slowly.   
  
"And now I think we'll bid you a fond fucking adieu," Freddie said cheerfully.  
  
Steve smirked. "Congratulations," he said darkly, before turning and disappearing into the trees.  
  
As soon as he was gone, cold fear swept over Ronnie, and she quickly pushed Freddie and John in the direction of the hill. She didn't feel safer until they were all in the car - which was thankfully running again - with the doors locked.  
  
As John pulled back out onto the road, Freddie turned in the passenger seat. "Dear, who was that creep?"  
  
Ronnie leaned her head back against the seat. How could she tell them? She had kept her secret for months now and thankfully, they had never asked.  
  
"Isn't that the guy from our last show?" John asked suddenly. "You said he was an old friend?"  
  
"He's no longer a friend of mine," Ronnie said quietly, and they all left it at that.  
  
Once they arrived at Ronnie's, Freddie and John helped her carry her bags up to her flat, and asked repeatedly if she would be all right alone. It was moments like these when Ronnie wished she had close girlfriends, or a sister...or even her _parents_...because after what happened in the woods, she would have asked to stay with them without a second thought. But her pride kept her from accepting the boys' offer to stay the night, and assuring them she'd be fine, she thanked them with her whole soul for everything they'd done for her that day.  
  
As John and Freddie turned to go, Ronnie was tempted to stop them, and to apologize to John for being so forward in the forest. But she let them go and as she closed the door, she realized she really wasn't sorry after all.  
  
Ronnie double-checked the lock on her front door at least four times, and went around the flat closing the blinds and securing the windows. She then grabbed her largest kitchen knife, slipped it under her pillow, and settled in for a long, sleepless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't tell you how much I appreciate the kudos, comments, and that you took the time to read this! Onward!


	6. Chapter 6

Ronnie leaned her ear against the door, her face slowly breaking into a smile as she heard the sounds of a piano being played and someone singing. The door was open a crack and, remembering that Freddie had said to just come in when she arrived, she entered Freddie's flat and followed the sound of music.  
  
Gripping the greasy take-out bag from the diner, she slowly made her way to the room with the sound, and stood in the doorway. John was playing the piano, his back turned to her, while Freddie stood at the other side of the instrument, singing while referencing a wrinkled piece of paper.  
  
_Don't you misfire; fill me up_  
_With the desire to carry on_  
  
Freddie glanced up at that moment, smiled slightly, and gave her a wink. Ignoring the paper, he sang to her instead.  
  
_Don't you know, honey, that love's a game_  
_It's always a hit or miss_  
_So take your aim_  
  
Ronnie quietly walked closer to the piano and sat down next to John as he continued to play the sweet melody.  
  
_Got to hold on tight_  
_Shoot me out of sight_  
  
Glancing over to see who was sharing his piano bench, John realized it was Ronnie, and jumped, his hands crashing down on the keys and making a very un-melodic sound.  
  
"Forgive me for intruding," Ronnie said, holding up the paper bag. "I brought lunch."  
  
"Wonderful, darling!" Freddie exclaimed. "We were just practising John's new song."  
  
John immediately looked at his hands. "It's not done yet..."  
  
"I love it," Ronnie said, and John looked at her in surprise.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Ronnie nodded and gave him an encouraging smile. "Really."  
  
"See darling?" Freddie said. "I told you it was good. Now let's eat!"  
  
Ronnie's boss had decided to make life exciting by giving her a day shift and so she had offered to bring Freddie and John lunch from the diner when her shift was over. Now, as they gathered around the table, Freddie cleared his throat importantly. "Ronnie dear, I have an invitation to extend."  
  
Ronnie raised her eyebrows and glanced at John, who shrugged with a smile. "Do you?" she said. "How very formal, Freddie."  
  
"We're going out to dinner tonight and would love you to join us."  
  
Ronnie pretended to think about it. "Under one condition."  
  
"And what's that?" Freddie asked.  
  
"You let me buy _you_ dinner," Ronnie replied.  
  
"I'm going to say yes so that you'll agree to come, and then I'll secretly break my promise later," Freddie decided.  
  
Ronnie smiled at this and didn't tell him that she would have come either way. She needed something to do besides eat and forget things and gain weight. Also, it would give her less time to think. Only a few weeks had passed since her encounter with Steve in the woods and she still hadn't talked to the band about it, or about the kiss with Deaky. And it was honestly probably for the best, because she was confused and hormonal and emotional, and it was best not to dwell on things at that moment.  
  
Which was why she was so relieved when, later that night, the conversation was kept light at the dinner table, even if it was about the slightly embarrassing subject of her recent pelvic exam.  
  
"And I was so nervous but it turned out to be fine!" Roger was saying after dinner, while Ronnie shook with silent laughter beside him.  
  
"And if the doctor hadn't been so good at his job and so fast, I would have kicked you both out," she added.  
  
"It was quite fascinating actually," Brian said, "and I've been reading this book about it - "  
  
"Hold on," Freddie held up a hand. "Take two giant steps back. You're reading a book about what?"  
  
"About vaginal examinations," Roger said seriously, as if it were a very important matter to him.  
  
"No, not about that," Brian said, exasperated. "About childbirth."  
  
"Really?" Ronnie asked, impressed, at the same time that Freddie asked, " _Why_?"  
  
"Well, I figured one of us has to know what's going on," Brian said defensively.  
  
John was nodding, as if this was perfectly reasonable. "In case of an emergency."  
  
"Yes, exactly!" Brian agreed, pulling out a heavy book from his jacket and showing the table.  
  
"The Obstetrics Handbook, Brian?" Freddie said incredulously, taking the book from him. "You couldn't have kept it simple and picked up What to Expect When You're Expecting?"  
  
"Why are you carrying it around with you everywhere?" Roger asked, peering over Freddie's shoulder as he flipped through the tome.  
  
"In case of an emergency?" John suggested again.  
  
"Yes, thank you, Deaky!"  
  
"This is positively pornographic, darling," Freddie said, turning the book to show a photo of a woman's anatomy.  
  
"It's science, Fred," Brian said, rolling his eyes, as John turned crimson and Roger grabbed the book from Freddie, inspecting the picture closely.  
  
"But she'll be giving birth in hospital," Freddie said. "You won't need to know anything, except how to wait patiently in a chair."  
  
"So you mean," Roger said slowly, reasoning it out and tearing his eyes away from the revealing illustration, "if Ronnie were to have her baby suddenly at - I dunno, the studio or something - you'd know what to do."  
  
Brian nodded. "Yes," he said. "Of course that wouldn't happen, but we'd know _something_ at least if we were put in a situation like that."  
  
"Well, I really appreciate it," Ronnie said, and she meant it.  
  
"Doctor May," Freddie said with a grin. "Strummer of guitars, writer of love ballads, and deliverer of small infants."  
  
Brian smirked. "I'll be sure to let you borrow it when I'm done, Fred."  
  
"Miss Tetzlaff, seducer of bass players," Roger whispered gleefully into Ronnie's ear. _Here we go_ , Ronnie internally sighed. She had to have known it was going to come up sooner or later.  
  
"You're too kind, Brian," Freddie said diplomatically, before catching a glimpse of Ronnie. "Ronnie darling, you're bright red."  
  
"Because she's glowing!" Roger exclaimed. "Deaky, isn't she radiant?"  
  
"Y-yes," John agreed, glancing at her from under his eyebrows.  
  
"It's a bit hot in here," Ronnie announced. "I think I'll run to the restroom."  
  
"Is it any cooler in there?" Roger asked curiously.  
  
"Do you want one of us to come with your dear?" Freddie asked with the gentlest of teasing smiles. "Remember what happened last time we let you piss by yourself?"  
  
"I think I'll be fine," Ronnie assured him with a smile. She had been trying to avoid the subject of what had happened in the woods, but everyone else certainly was not.  
  
The restaurant also doubled as a noisy bar, and Ronnie was glad that everyone appeared to be distracted, because she couldn't wipe the silly smile off of her face as she maneuvered her way to the restroom. Hanging out with the band always made her feel better.  
  
She never made it to the restroom, however. She was almost there, when she was intercepted by three beautiful women. The woman in front was none other than Ursula, Steve's wife.  
  
"Ronnie?" she exclaimed over the noise in the fakest tone imaginable. "What a lovely surprise!"  
  
Ronnie found she couldn't even muster the strength to smile back. She looked around quickly. If Ursula was here, Steve couldn't be far away...  
  
She felt Ursula's perfectly manicured fingers grabbing her chin roughly and turning Ronnie back to face her.  
  
"I heard the wonderful news," Ursula continued scathingly, leaning forward as if to give her a congratulatory hug.  
  
Instead, she gripped Ronnie tightly above the elbows and leaned her face against hers. "I know it's my husband's," she whispered tightly.  
  
Temper flaring, Ronnie very suddenly pushed Ursula away, hard enough where her two girlfriends needed to steady her. "For one thing, don't touch me," she said in a low voice. "Secondly, don't flatter yourself. Your husband's not that much of a catch, and it's not his."  
  
"You're a liar," Ursula growled.  
  
Ronnie crossed her arms and grinned at them. She knew the smart thing would be to walk away, but her emotions were getting the best of her. How dare Ursula put her hands on her and antagonize her so?  
  
Ursula's eyes blazed. "What a whore you are."  
  
"Scrubber," the second girl said, while the third one hissed, "Homewrecker."  
  
"He could have picked someone prettier," Ursula continued harshly.  
  
"And thinner," the second girl agreed.  
  
"And smarter," the third one added.  
  
"Well, if you're all of those things," Ronnie whispered, leaning forward. "Why is your husband straying?"  
  
Fast as lightning, Ursula's arm shot forward and grabbed Ronnie by the hair. She pulled her close. "How _dare_ you?"  
  
"Is everything all right here ladies?" a voice asked from behind Ronnie, and she recognized it as Roger's.  
  
"Who's this, another one of your men?" Ursula asked Ronnie icily, before turning to him. "You can leave. This is none of your business."  
  
"Actually, Ronnie's business _is_ my business," Roger said cheerfully, grasping the hand that was curled tightly in Ronnie's hair and wrenching it away. "Silly _you_ , it appears you got your hand stuck while you were hugging my friend."  
  
"Ursula, is this man bothering you?" a man asked, coming up behind her, and Ronnie stiffened when she saw that it was Steve. He recognized her at that moment, and gave her a cold smile. "Ronnie, how _nice_ to see you."  
  
At that moment, John appeared beside her. He linked his fingers with hers and she immediately felt safe.  
  
"I didn't realize she was one of your whores, Steve," Ursula spat at her husband. "Please, be sure you congratulate her on her upcoming bundle of _joy_."  
  
"I don't know why you're getting pissy with _me_ ," Steve said, annoyed. "After all, it's not mine, right Ronnie?" His look sent a cold shiver down her spine.  
  
"Yeah?" Ursula shot back. "Well then whose is it?"  
  
"His," Steve sneered, nodding dismissively in John's direction.  
  
Ursula looked John up and down in disbelief. "I don't believe that for a second."  
  
"Well, you better," Ronnie told her.  
  
"Maybe you should _prove_ it to my wife," Steve suggested with a gleam in his eye and at that moment, Ronnie's heart sunk. Something in his manner showed that he didn't believe her the first time she tried to prove it, in the woods.  
  
"I don't need to prove anything to anyone," Ronnie replied angrily.  
  
"In that case, maybe it is mine, honey," Steve said to his wife, before turning back to Ronnie. "And if that's the case, you'll hand him over after you've popped him out."  
  
Roger had taken a threatening step step forward then, and was pulled back by Freddie, who had just materialized. A large man had appeared behind Steve, as well.  
  
"She'll do no such thing," John said firmly, and everyone turned to him in surprise, "because it _is_ my child, not yours."  
  
"Like Ronnie would ever choose someone like you," Steve spat at him, and before Ronnie could open her mouth to respond, she felt John's lips on hers. As she returned the kiss, she wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking... _make this convincing, because if we don't, we'll be in big trouble_. And he must have been thinking just that, because he gently parted her lips with his, and deepened the kiss.  
  
Ronnie felt her stomach twist into knots. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous? Like it was extremely hot in the room and she was going into cardiac arrest? She really, really had to pee.  
  
"I feel like we're watching their friendship blossom through their attempts to prove they're a couple to other people," Freddie whispered so that only Roger could hear.  
  
"Where did Deaky learn to do that?" Roger whispered back.  
  
When John finally let Ronnie go, Ursula was looking at them with a strange look. Ronnie couldn't tell if it was shock or envy or hatred, or maybe it was all of those things. "Disgusting," she whispered.  
  
Roger leaned forward at that point and addressed Steve. "She's caused enough trouble tonight, don't you think?" he said in a deadly voice. "I think it's time to put your bitch back on her leash."  
  
Only a split second passed before Steve swung at Roger, punching him square in the face. Irate, Roger lunged at him, throwing him against the brick wall of the pub. When Steve's friend made a move at Roger, Freddie took a jab at him, the uncomfortable encounter escalating into a bar fight. The three girls retreated out of the way, and John pulled Ronnie towards the door, although she resisted. She couldn't take her eyes off the violent confrontation in front of her - the confrontation that was her fault, because why hadn't she just walked away? - and she couldn't bring her eyes to meet John's after what had just happened between them.  
  
Brian arrived very suddenly, and first pulled Roger away from Steve and firmly pushed him towards the door. He next dragged Freddie away, and keeping a tight arm around his shoulders, he turned to Steve. "From this point forward," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "You _will_ fuck off and leave my friends alone." He then steered Freddie to the door, nodding to Roger, John, and Ronnie to go before him.  
  
It was a tense drive home in Brian's van. Brian was calm as he drove, but Ronnie could see his knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel. Freddie was very quiet in the passenger seat, and she knew he was quietly seething.  
  
Ronnie had made sure that Roger was in the middle in the backseat. It had been easy to do, as it only required her to push him into the van next to John as she fussed over his bleeding nose. He sat quietly as well, holding a handkerchief to his face. John gazed out the window, his arms crossed.  
  
Ronnie couldn't remember the last time she felt so low. The night had started off so beautifully, and it had ended so terribly, and she was having an awful time sorting through her tangled emotions. She felt guilty for letting things get so out of hand - why hadn't she walked away when she was confronted by the three women? She felt afraid because Steve had found her...again. She felt worried because she didn't want this to change things between her and the band. And she felt confused because she had wanted John to make the kiss convincing, but it had felt  _too_  real. She couldn't wait to go home and hide.  
  
But after a few minutes, Brian took a turn that went in the opposite direction from her flat. She opened her mouth to protest, and Brian glanced at her in the rear-view mirror.  
  
"I'm taking you to Roger and Freddie's flat," he explained. "We all need to talk."  
  
Ronnie leaned down in the seat and closed her eyes. She didn't want to talk about it - _any_ of it. If they wanted an explanation, she'd finally have to tell them everything. She tried desperately to think of excuses - she didn't feel well, she was tired, she was not ready to emotionally commit to telling them her sob story - but by the time they pulled in front of the flat, she still had nothing, and followed them hopelessly up the stairs.  
  
As the band assembled in the living room, Ronnie excused herself. "I just need a moment," she explained, before hurrying away and shutting herself in the bathroom.  
The act of relieving her bladder and washing her hands took a mere two minutes, so she sat on the closed toilet seat, feeling like she hadn't had a long enough minute to herself. She clasped her hands together tightly, because she was shaking like a leaf, and sniffled back tears.  
  
She knew that the band knew she had done _something_ with _somebody_ \- she _was_ pregnant, after all - but they didn't know the circumstances. They didn't know she had encouraged it, wanted it, enjoyed it. It would have been one thing if she had been in love, and then she had been left behind. That was understandable. But the truth of the matter was that she had given herself away for one night. What would they think of her? She covered her mouth with a quivering hand and burst into tears.  
  
The minutes went by much too quickly and after awhile, Ronnie heard the knock on the door that she knew was coming. "Ronnie?" Roger's voice called.  
  
Ronnie forced herself to cough. "Yes?"  
  
"I need a tissue," he said through the door. "My nose is bleeding again."  
  
She couldn't deny him that, so she got up, grabbed a tissue, and opened the door.  
  
Roger's face was a mask of perfect sympathy and Ronnie frowned at him. "Where's all the blood?"  
  
"I didn't think you'd open the door otherwise," Roger said, hanging his head in guilt, before glancing at the tissue. "I think you need that more than I do."  
  
Ronnie wiped quickly at the tears that were still falling and retreated back into the bathroom, where she sat herself back down on the toilet. Roger followed, and kneeling in front of her, gave her another handful of tissues.  
  
"You're avoiding the talk, aren't you?" he asked kindly.  
  
"You guys are going to think I'm a..." Ronnie bit her lip, before the word flowed out on another rush of sobs, "... a whore."  
  
Roger quickly wrapped her in a bear hug and pulled her gently off of the toilet and onto the floor. "No one is going to think that of you, Ronnie."  
  
Ronnie shook her head, sniffling uncontrollably. Sensing another presence, Roger looked up and saw John standing in the open doorway with an anguished look upon his face. He reached out his hand to his younger bandmate, indicating he should come over.  
  
When John stepped closer, Roger gently pulled him to the floor and, very carefully, as if he were handing over something very fragile to a small child, he placed Ronnie into John's arms.  
  
John went still, holding his breath, as he felt the swell of Ronnie's pregnant belly against his. But when he felt Ronnie clinging to him, her fingers entwined in his shirt, he relaxed. Holding her tightly, he let her cry into his shoulder.  
  
Leaning against the wall, Roger watched them sadly, every now and then reaching out a hand to pat Ronnie's back.  
  
After a few minutes, Ronnie's sobs subsided, but she made no move to lift her head from John's shoulder. Maybe they'd forget she was there and she wouldn't have to say anything, but that was, of course, a fool's hope. When she heard a polite rap on the doorframe, she was forced to lift her gaze.  
  
Brian had come into the bathroom, and was kneeling behind John, so that he and Ronnie were face to face.  
  
"Are you feeling all right?" he whispered to her, and she shook her head. He nodded in understanding, and said, "We think you should stay here tonight. I don't know if your flat is safe, considering everything that's happened."  
  
Knowing there was no use arguing, Ronnie nodded again, feeling very small and very young.  
  
"Freddie has graciously given up his bed," Brian continued, and when Ronnie opened her mouth to protest, he said quickly, "You need it more than he does. He's also getting together some clothes for you right now."  
  
Ronnie leaned her cheek into the fabric of John's shirt, turning her head away from them all. She was completely defeated. From the moment she had discovered her pregnancy, she had tried so hard to be independent, self-sufficient, un-intrusive, discreet. She felt like all of that had been taken from her.  
  
In a haze of exhaustion and sorrow, Ronnie felt herself being helped up off of the bathroom floor and into Freddie's bedroom. They left her while she undressed and pulled on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of Freddie's pajama pants, which astonishingly still fit around her middle. Like a small child, she crawled onto the bed and over to the pillows. Sitting up and leaning against them, she pulled her knees as far to her chest as her bulging stomach allowed and waited.  
  
When the band finally did come in, she could practically feel the worry radiating off of all four of them. She swallowed hard, waiting for them to get comfortable so she could begin her tale.  
  
But instead, Freddie sat by her side and said quietly, "You don't need to tell us anything tonight, if you don't want to."  
  
She didn't have to tell them anything _tonight_ , but she would have to eventually. It was best to get it over with. "No," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, I'll tell you now."  
  
With that said, the rest of the band found places on Freddie's bed, and waited patiently for her to begin.  
  
There was a long silence, before Ronnie admitted, "I don't even know where to begin."  
  
"Start at the beginning, darling," Freddie encouraged her.  
  
Ronnie nodded and took a deep breath. "There was this guy..."  
  
"Makes sense so far," Roger murmured, and Brian gave him a look.  
  
"I went out one night with Ratty months ago..."  
  
"Ratty?" Roger exclaimed. "I'll kill him."  
  
"Roger!" Brian whispered fiercely.  
  
"It wasn't Ratty's fault," Ronnie said sadly. "He was doing...well, whatever it is that he does, and I was left on my own. I met this guy at the bar and talked with him for hours. We had so much in common, he seemed so _normal_ , and I was so lonely..." Ronnie trailed off. _Pathetic, Ronnie._  
  
"And that was that," she finished. She found she was avoiding looking at any of them.  
  
"What was what?" Roger asked eagerly, leaning forward. "Details?"  
  
Ronnie smiled, in spite of anything. "We went to a hotel room and do what people do in hotel rooms, Roger."  
  
"What, sleep?" Roger asked.  
  
Brian turned and found the first thing he could find - a sock that belong to Freddie - and whipped it at Roger. "You know perfectly well what they did, Roger, you've done it often enough yourself!"  
  
"It was agreed it was to be a one night thing," Ronnie explained. "We both agreed that after that night, we wouldn't see each other again."  
  
"So," Freddie began slowly. "You've been tormenting yourself for all of these months because you had sex?"  
  
Ronnie blushed at how plainly he had put it. "How do you know I've been so distressed about it?"  
  
Brian gave her a kind smile. "It's been obvious that something has been bothering you for a long time."  
  
"I feel like a whore," Ronnie said simply. "Who does that once, with a man you've never even met?"  
  
"I think your parents taught you that, darling," Freddie said gently. "Plenty of people do it."  
  
"See, that's what's wrong with society," Brian said angrily. "If a man does it, it's fine. If a woman does it, she's shunned."  
  
"And what's worse," Ronnie began, but then quickly shut her mouth. The band had that effect on her, of making her feel so comfortable she felt she could tell them anything. But she suddenly felt she didn't want to tell them this.  
  
"Yes?" John encouraged her gently.  
  
Ronnie stared intently at her interlocked fingers. "It was my first time. It _shouldn't_ have been with him."  
  
"Just one time?" Roger said, impressed. "Ronnie, do you realize how incredibly fertile you are?"  
  
"Oh, Roger," Brian groaned.  
  
"Lucky me," Ronnie said sarcastically.  
  
"I don't think any of that matters," John said quietly, and Ronnie looked at him in surprise.  
  
"Go on," Freddie urged him.  
  
"I don't think it matters that it was your..." John blushed, but kept going, "...your first time, or that it was one time, or that it was with h-him. It was what you needed at the moment."  
  
"John Deacon's advice on sex," Roger said in awe. "Tell us more, Deaky!"  
  
Ronnie was staring at him in wonder. She had never felt so _accepted_.  
  
"But Ronnie," Brian said very quietly. "Promise us - he didn't force you do do anything you didn't want to do?"  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "No, I was completely...willing."  
  
"First thing's first," Freddie said firmly. "You embraced your sexuality. Good for you, darling."  
  
Ronnie smiled at him.  
  
"Secondly, you've done nothing wrong," Freddie continued. "So you can stop thinking that right now."  
  
The rest of the band was nodding in agreement.  
  
"And thirdly, everyone else can just piss right off, because you are a beautiful, modern woman and we are living in the nineteen _seventies_ , for Christ's sake," Freddie finished.  
  
"But Ronnie, that man at the bar..." Brian said suddenly.  
  
Ronnie sighed. "Well, if you haven't already guessed...that's the dear ole' dad."  
  
"That wanker?" Roger said in disappointment.  
  
"Well who were you expecting, darling?" Freddie asked dryly. "Prince Charming?"  
  
"So does he know that it's his?" John asked.  
  
"I think he suspects it," Ronnie said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. "He did it on purpose."  
  
"On purpose?" Brian repeated.  
  
"At the time, he told me he was using..." Ronnie hesitated.  
  
"A condom, darling?" Freddie offered.  
  
"Yes, thank you, Freddie," Ronnie said in relief. "And in the woods a few weeks ago, he admitted that he didn't use anything at all."  
  
"And because it was your first time, you wouldn't have known the difference," Brian said bitterly.  
  
"Right," Ronnie said. "And he said he didn't use anything because his wife is barren and he needs a son."  
  
John was leaning forward on the bed in disbelief, and Roger's mouth had fallen open in shock. Freddie's hands were balled into fists, and Brian slammed an angry hand down on Freddie's bed.  
  
"A son?" Brian hissed, and Ronnie thought to herself that she had never seen him so angry. "He did this because he needs an _heir_? What is this, 1554 Tudor England?"  
  
"Bastard!" Roger breathed.  
  
"Has he been stalking you, Ronnie?" John asked grimly.  
  
"I think he has," Ronnie confessed. "He's showed up three separate times at places I've been - including the _woods_ \- and that seems like more than a coincidence to me."  
  
"We should go to the police," Brian said immediately.  
  
"But we don't have any proof," Ronnie pointed out.

"My broken nose," Roger grumbled.

"I don't think it's broken, dear," Freddie whispered.  
  
"He impregnated you without your consent," Brian said.  
  
"But the rest of it was _with_ my consent," Ronnie insisted. "The police won't do anything if we go to them and say that I slept willingly with this guy who got me pregnant on purpose because his wife can't have children and now he's stalking me. That sounds crazy. And what can they do about that?"  
  
Brian looked truly troubled. "Promise us you'll be careful?"  
  
"I promise," Ronnie said and she meant it. She was going to do everything in her power to get Steve off of her back - if the fight at the bar hadn't already done that.  
  
"See, was that so bad, dear?" Freddie asked her. "You told us your entire story and we don't think of you any differently."  
  
Ronnie had to admit she felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. "No, that wasn't _that_ terrible," she agreed.  
  
"Now onto more pressing matters," Roger said importantly. "Deaky, where did you learn to kiss someone like that?"  
  
John had busied himself with plucking at a string on Freddie's blanket. "I don't know what you mean."  
  
"I was certainly convinced," Roger whispered, as Brian looked at him, confused. John looked up at Freddie at that moment and upon seeing the pleading look in his friend's eyes, Freddie said, "Want to know what I'm convinced of? That Ronnie needs a good night's sleep."  
  
Ronnie was relieved that it was left at that. After each band member had bid her goodnight in their own way - a hug from Roger, a peck on the cheek from Freddie, a handshake from Brian, and the sweetest of smiles from John - Ronnie burrowed deeper into Freddie's bed. How was it possible to feel so relieved, and yet so frightened? She didn't have long to ponder, before exhaustion swept her away.


	7. Chapter 7

Ronnie frowned at her dinner choices and sighed. Jar of peanut butter, bowl of popcorn, or half a loaf of toast. She really needed to go grocery shopping. And since she had no other plans that particular Saturday night, she really could have gotten dressed and gone to the market down the street...if she wanted to.  
  
But she didn't.  
  
Only a few weeks had passed since the fight in the bar and life had returned to normal - whatever normal was. She was well into her fourth month of pregnancy and she was really starting to feel it. She was just so _tired_. Hence her decision to put a spoon in a jar of peanut butter, call it dinner, and camp on the couch for the night watching old movies.  
  
Ronnie stuck an overflowing spoonful of peanut butter in her mouth and rolled her eyes. _Life of the party, Ronnie._  
  
It was at that moment that there was a knock on the door. Ronnie froze, eyes wide. Ever since the night at the bar, she always got anxious when someone knocked on the door, even though Steve had not showed up again since. She uncomfortably swallowed her mouthful of peanut butter, slipped a knife into the pocket of her sweatpants, and crept over to the door.  
  
She paused for a moment, wondering if she should try to make herself presentable. After all, it could be a welcome visitor, and she debated if she should go and put her bra on, before instantly losing all concern over it. _It's probably only Ratty_ , she thought, as she opened the door.  
  
But it wasn't Ratty.  
  
"John!" Ronnie exclaimed, folding an arm over her chest in what she hoped was a casual gesture. What was Deaky doing on her doorstep on a Saturday night? Surely he and the band had a gig, or studio time, or just something plain fun to be doing...  
  
John smiled and stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Sorry," he mumbled shyly. "I tried to call but your phone was off the hook."  
  
"Oh." She had tripped over the cord earlier in the day, ripping it out of it's socket, and had been so irritated that she didn't bother to plug it back in. "I forgot about that."  
  
"I have two tickets to a Led Zeppelin concert tonight," John continued nervously. "I thought maybe you'd like to...to go with me?"  
  
Ronnie felt her face break into a huge smile. "Of course I would!" she said excitedly, instantly forgetting how tired she was.  John beamed, obviously very relieved.  
  
She waved him into her flat, removing the knife from her pocket and placing it on the kitchen counter. John raised his eyebrows at her.  
  
"In case of an emergency," she said quickly, and John nodded, understanding.  
  
As Ronnie rushed to her bedroom to change, she couldn't help but think how happy she was that she had decided not to go grocery shopping.  
  
\---  
  
Moments later, John and Ronnie were walking down the street, the lamp posts casting shadows around them. They had decided to leave John's car at Ronnie's, since the venue was only a ten-minute walk away, and it was such a lovely night. Ronnie smiled as she thought to herself how chatty John could actually get, once you got him going. Strolling down the street, hands still in his jacket pockets, he seemed like the happiest bass player in the world as he updated Ronnie on the progress of the band's newest album. Not even realizing she was doing so, she looped her arm through his, totally oblivious to the way he looked over at her, pleasantly surprised, almost euphoric.  
  
The venue was jam-packed - as she expected it would be. Reaching deep into his pocket, John pulled out two tickets, and handed one to her as they waited in line to enter. Ronnie dug her own hand into her back pocket, while asking John how much she owed for her ticket.  
  
"Nothing," he said simply, and she looked at him in surprise.  
  
"You must let me pay you back," Ronnie said uncertainly, as she pulled money out of her pocket, but John gently took her hand and folded her fingers over the cash.  
  
"It's on me," he insisted with his sweet smile.  
  
Ronnie felt a smile slowly spreading across her face and, not able to resist, she threw her arms around him. "Thank you so much," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek.  
  
Catching his breath, John allowed himself to hug her back. Ronnie didn't know it, but he hadn't taken his hands out of his pockets for the entire walk to the venue because he had been clinging to the tickets, so afraid of losing them, and losing this moment that he hadn't known was coming.  
  
Someone cleared their throat very loudly and pulling away, Ronnie saw Ratty in the crowd, giving her an inquisitive look. How did he always manage to catch her in situations like this? But she and John waved, and Ratty grinned and moved on, pulling his date along with him.  
  
Once they were in their seats - which were _excellent_ \- Ronnie clasped her hands together in anticipation. Led Zeppelin was one of her favorite bands; in fact, if she wasn't working for Queen, it would have been her dream to be a Zeppelin roadie, despite the wild stories she had heard.  
  
Surrounded by the roar of the crowd and the loud music, John found himself in silent awe of every single moment - the way Ronnie grabbed his arm in excitement when the band appeared on stage, the way she sometimes sat entranced by what she was experiencing, the way she would sway to the beat...and especially the way that here, in the midst of thousands, they weren't John Deacon, bass player of Queen, and Veronica Tetzlaff, roadie extraordinaire. They were simply Deaky and Ronnie and that meant everything.  
  
Ronnie, on the other hand, was having the time of her life, but she was also trying to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor. Robert Plant was truly a rock god and they were witnessing rock royalty; even Queen deeply admired this group. She thought to herself, if her baby was a boy, maybe she'd even name him Robert...and as if in response, she felt a slight flutter in her belly.  
  
She was sorry when, hours later, the show ended and they were back outside, getting ready to journey home. She realized at that moment that a bathroom break was a must, and she excused herself quickly to one of the public outdoor restrooms.  
  
Opening the door and flipping on the light, her first thought was surprise that it was a small one person restroom.  Her second thought was one of pure shock, as she saw an individual standing in the corner.  
  
" _You_!" she exclaimed. "What in the _hell_ are you doing here?"  
  
Steve stepped out of his corner with a self-satisfied smirk. "Surprised to see me?"  
  
Ronnie immediately stepped back to the door. "How did you know I'd be coming in here? What if someone else had come in here and found you?" It wasn't an important question, but it was helping her buy time while she controlled her emotions.  
  
Steve rolled his eyes. "Because I've been watching you."  
  
Ronnie felt fear crawl down her spine. She instantly grabbed the door handle.  
  
"Not so fast," Steve said quickly. "I have a proposition for you."  
  
"The answer is no," Ronnie said, staring at him with wide eyes.  
  
"You're going to come with me," he continued, ignoring her. "Back to my home. And you're going to have that baby in my town. And only once you've handed it over to me, will I let you go."  
  
"Like hell I will," Ronnie retorted.  
  
At that moment, Steve pulled out a shiny, black object, and Ronnie's stomach flipped in fear. _Oh my God, he has a gun.  
_  
"I think you can be persuaded, actually," he said nonchalantly, holding the weapon up to show her.  
  
Ronnie realized she needed to do some serious thinking on her feet if she was going to get out of this situation, but she found that, face to face with such fear, she had no ideas. The best she could do was stall.  
  
"Why do you want a son so badly anyway?" she asked conversationally.  
  
"To take over the family business," Steve replied.  
  
  
Ronnie snorted. "The family business? What are you, in the mob?"  
  
Steve grinned evilly. "What I do is not important."  
  
"And what if it's a girl, huh?" Ronnie continued, tightening her grip on door handle. "What then?"  
  
"Then we try again," Steve said threateningly, taking a step forward. "And again, and again, and again, until you get it right." His eyes moved to her hand. "Open that door, and you'll be very sorry."  
  
Ronnie was slowly losing hope, and although she was more angry than anything, she was also becoming more and more afraid. Up until this point, Steve had been more like a freaky pain in the arse. In the span of moments, he had become a real threat.  
  
"I hope you realize that this is insanity," Ronnie said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.  
  
"Insanity?" Steve repeated, before shaking his head. "No, I'd like to think of it as passion. You have no idea what it's like to love what you do so much, with every fiber of your being, and to imagine all that hard work disappearing, as if it had never even been, all because there's no one there to take it over. You have no idea what it's like to have a barren wife who doesn't give three damns."  
  
Ronnie could only stare at him. His passion was bordering on madness.  
  
"Which is why," Steve went on, "you're going to do exactly as I say. You're going to go out there and tell your _date_ that you aren't returning to your flat with him."  
  
Ronnie got caught on the word _date._ Is that what it had been? She hadn't even realized...  
  
Steve snapped his fingers. "Pay attention!"  
  
Ronnie looked up quickly. "He won't leave me here," she said, giving him an _are you stupid?_ look.  
  
"Your mission is to get him to leave you here," Steve said sharply. "I don't care what you tell him, but you better be convincing. I'll give you a few minutes, and if he hasn't left by then, I will kill him."  
  
Ronnie felt as if her heart had stopped. "No," she whispered, before saying more forcefully, "No!"  
  
"That all depends on you," Steve shrugged, unlocking part of the compartment of his weapon to show her the bullets inside. "I'm not playing games. Two minutes, Ronnie, and if he's still there, he's dead."  
  
He took a step even closer, and Ronnie had nowhere to go but back flat against the door.  
  
"If you cry and give me away, or look over at me and blow my cover, I will kill him," he continued. "I'm going to give you a few minutes by yourself here to get your game plan together and to compose yourself. If you try to go for help, I will kill him. If you escape through the window, one of my guys out there will let me know, and I will kill him."  
  
Ronnie found she was shaking, and she blinked away angry tears. "You're a monster," she whispered, hoping she sounded powerful, but finding she only sounded pitiful.  
  
"Maybe so," Steve said, stepping back. "You have three minutes to get yourself together. No more than that."  
  
With the return of her space came the return of her temper. "The least you could do is give me an extra minute since you interrupted my piss break," she said viciously.  
  
"Strategize _while_ you piss," Steve said, unmoved, as he opened the window, hefted himself onto the ledge, and swung a leg out. He held up the gun once more, and she heard it click. "Remember, Ronnie." And with that, he was out of sight.  
  
Once he was gone, Ronnie ran to the window, and slammed it shut. Holding her stomach, she slid to the floor, feeling very sick, and thinking to herself how she really should have just gone grocery shopping, and she wouldn't be in this mess.  
  
_Poor Deaky_ , she thought to herself, as her tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. How would she get him to leave her alone at the venue? The band were her protectors; they didn't even allow her to walk home from the diner by herself. The chances that John would leave her here by herself were slim indeed. So what could she tell him? How could she save him without seeming heartless? How could she ensure his safety without hurting him in the process?  
  
Ronnie pressed her hands to her mouth to try to control her sobs, as she realized how desperate her situation really was. The thought of hurting John was unbearable, but the thought of Steve acting out his promise was so much worse. A world without John...Ronnie couldn't even fathom it. She unsteadily got to her feet and took her much needed piss break - no thanks to Steve - and tried to calm her breathing, wiping her eyes over and over again.  
  
She was running out of time. She washed her hands quickly, and splashed cold water on her face. She blew her nose, wiped her eyes at least three more times, ruffled her hair a bit, and looked in the mirror.  
  
While looking at her ghastly appearance, she suddenly spotted something on the floor behind her, near the toilet. Was that a pen? Spinning around, she rushed over to it and fell to her knees. Rummaging in her pockets, she found a receipt and flattening it against the wall, she picked up the pen.  
  
_HELP!!! Please call police. Man trying to abduct me. - Veronica Tetzlaff  
_  
That would have to do. She pulled the cash out of her back pocket, and unfolding it, put the receipt on top of the bills. She rolled the money back up, so that the white of the receipt was sticking out slightly, and stuffed it back in her pocket. It was extremely lucky that she had found the pen, but it would be even luckier if she could find someone to give her note to.  
  
There was no more time to think about it. She had to save John. Turning, she took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and slipped outside.  
  
\---  
  
John was exactly where she had left him, leaning against the wall, arms folded against the chill that had formed in the air. When he heard Ronnie approaching, he turned to greet her with a smile. When she came closer, his smile disappeared.  
  
_He knows something is wrong_ , Ronnie thought uneasily. Behind John, in the darkness of an alleyway, she caught a glimpse of metal shining, and knew Steve was there, watching and listening.  
  
Mustering a confident smile - which was probably not one bit persuasive - she turned her full attention on John. "Listen, Deaky," she said gently. "Something has come up, and I'm not going to be able to return to the flat with you."  
  
"Is everything all right?" John asked, clearly concerned.  
  
"Yes," Ronnie said quickly - a bit too quickly. _Keep it together, Ronnie,_ she warned herself. Everything depended on her keeping her composure and being convincing.  
  
John was staring at her, clearly not convinced.  
  
"Everything's fine," Ronnie insisted. "It really is. There's just something I need to take care of. I'll call you as soon as I get home later."  
  
"Is is something I can help with?" John questioned, and Ronnie mentally cursed him. Why was he so sweet?  
  
"N-no," Ronnie said. "It's something I need to do on my own."  
  
"You're going to walk home by yourself?" John asked, then shook his head. "It's too dangerous, with Steve still out there..."  
  
"I'll be fine," Ronnie said firmly. "I'm not afraid of him." _Truly a lie_ , Ronnie thought.  
  
"I...I understand you need to do this on your own," John said, "but at least let me wait somewhere for you, so I can walk you home."  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "It's going to take a while."  
  
"I have time," John insisted, and Ronnie's heart nearly broke at the sincerity in his voice.  
  
"John, trust me, please," Ronnie said in a low voice. "I need you to leave right now. I promise I'll catch up with you later."  
  
"What's wrong?" John said suddenly, looking at her closely. "Ronnie, what's happened? You're upset."  
  
"No, I'm not," Ronnie lied, and John reached out and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She desperately hoped Steve hadn't seen that. He had said not to cry, or that would be the end...  
  
"I'm just n-not feeling well," she stammered, feeling her self-control slipping away. She immediately realized that was the wrong thing to say.  
  
"Then I'm not going to leave you," John said gently.  
  
At that moment, out of the corner of her eye, Ronnie saw Steve step silently out of the alleyway. That was her warning that time was almost up. Fear punched her directly in the gut.  
  
"John, go," Ronnie said in a low, terrified voice, as her heart rate accelerated. "Just go."  
  
"Something is terribly wrong," John said anxiously, reaching out to her. "Ronnie, you can tell me..."  
  
" _Nothing_ is _wrong_ ," Ronnie whispered, pulling away from him, feeling herself on the verge of hysteria as she saw Steve taking the weapon out of his pocket. "Can't you see? I just want you to leave me alone."  
  
A brief look of hurt flashed across John's face, before he quickly hid it. "What happened in the restroom, Ronnie?"  
  
Steve was raising his arm, the gun pointed in John's direction. It took all of Ronnie's strength not to look his way, and not to burst into tears. Her knees went weak, as she realized what she had to do.  
  
"I was trying to let you off gently before," she said, swallowing all her emotions as she gave into the situation. _Save his life, Ronnie._ "John, I want you to leave me be. I don't want to see you anymore."  
  
Ronnie thought to herself that it was the worst form of torture, watching John's determined face slowly collapse, his teeth biting into his lower lip, his eyes wide in disbelief, as he lost his confidence, bit by bit.  
  
"You don't mean that," he whispered.  
  
"Yes, I do," Ronnie said firmly.  
  
"No!" John protested. "You don't mean that! This isn't like you, Ronnie."  
  
"You don't know me."  
  
"Who put you up to this? Was it _him?_ " John had instantly seen what was happening, proof that he _did_ know her.  
  
"It's my own decision," she whispered.  
  
John reached out and grabbed her hands before she could pull away. "You're shaking."  
  
Ronnie tried to wrench her hands away, but John held them tightly. " _Please_ , Ronnie."  
  
Still trying to pull away, Ronnie shook her head. "Go _away_ , John!"  
  
"But _why_?" John was confused and hurt and Ronnie couldn't bear it. She was almost out of time. If she didn't do this right, Steve would pull the trigger. At that moment, she heard a warning click.  
  
"Because you're suffocating me!" Ronnie cried out, tearing her hands from his. "And I can't take it anymore! These past few months have been _unbearable._ "  
  
"But Ronnie, _tonight_..." John said desperately, and it was then that Ronnie realized tonight _had_ been a date. How could she have missed the signs? It was just the two of them, he had picked her up, he had paid, he could easily have taken Roger instead...  
  
"...meant nothing!" Ronnie finished for him, while silently thinking that it really meant everything. "Tonight meant absolutely nothing to me. How could you ever think otherwise? How could you ever think that we...?" She stopped for a moment, before plowing on mercilessly. "You got me in to see my favorite band, that's all this was. John, _please_. Get out of here. I don't want this to continue and I don't want to see you ever again!" Her throat hurt by the time she finished; she hadn't realized she was shouting.  
  
John was staring at her, his mouth open in shock. As her cruel words began to sink in, he looked away quickly, before looking back up at her, his mouth twisted in anguish. She had only ever seen his lovely smile and to see his expression now was frightening. It was so un-Deaky. "Is that really what you want?" he asked quietly.  
  
_No, no, no,_ Ronnie thought. _Not at all._  
  
"More than anything," Ronnie said through gritted teeth.  
  
John nodded, stuffing his hands in his pocket. Ronnie saw his lower lip tremble slightly as he slowly began to back away and in the distance, Ronnie saw Steve lower the weapon and disappear into the alleyway.  
  
Ronnie then remembered the receipt with her cry for help scribbled on it. Perhaps she could get it to John...then he could go to the police, then he would know that she hadn't meant a word of what she had just said, then she could make this right...  
  
"Let me give you money for my ticket," she said flatly, feeling like an absolute monster, as she stuck her hand into her back pocket.  
  
"No," John said, his voice thick, and Ronnie thought desperately to herself, _Don't cry, Deaky. I'm not worth it._  
  
"I wouldn't want you to waste your money on something that meant nothing to you," he said brokenly, before walking away, head bowed.  
  
Ronnie watched him until he rounded the corner. When he was out of sight, she sunk to the ground, hands covering her mouth as she tried to stifle her sobs. What had she done? At that moment, she knew what it was like to truly hate herself.  
  
"Nice work," Steve remarked from above her. "You got him to leave _and_ you broke his heart. Extra points for that."  
  
Suddenly enraged, Ronnie looked up at him. "Fuck _you_ ," she hissed in a deadly voice. "He didn't deserve that!"  
  
"Oh please," Steve said, unimpressed. "He was clearly just trying to get into your pants. Even though I thought he had already been there, it being _his_ child and all..."  
  
Ronnie opened her mouth to argue but Steve held his hand up as he heard voices.  
  
"Pull yourself together," he warned. "We're still in public and we can't have you attracting attention."  
  
Ronnie got to her feet and wiped her eyes furiously. She had saved John, now she needed to find a way to save herself.  
  
Steve reached out and grasped her wrist tightly, and began to pull her in the direction that John had went.  
  
"Let go of me," Ronnie spat.  
  
"So you can run away?"  
  
"You're hurting me! You'll cut off my circulation, which will destroy air flow in my body, and your son will die."  
  
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Steve exclaimed. "You made that up!" But nevertheless, he let go.  
  
They were almost to the venue entrance when Ronnie saw a familiar face ahead. Eyes widening in surprise, she shook her head, to be sure she was really seeing him.  
  
_Yes_ , it was him. Ratty! He was still here! He appeared to be standing outside a different public restroom, likely waiting for his date. As they approached, Steve muttered, "Keep your head down."  
  
"That's my friend," Ronnie said. "And I owe him money."  
  
"Too bad. We need to go."  
  
"Ratty!" Ronnie exclaimed, realizing she was really gambling with her life.  
  
"Ronnie!" Ratty pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning on, glancing briefly at Steve behind her. Ronnie could see the clear question in his eyes: _where's Deaky?  
_  
"Ratty, listen," Ronnie said, facing him, with Steve just a step behind, gripping the back of her shirt in warning. "I need to leave town for a bit, but before I go I wanted to give you that money I owe you." She widened her eyes and immediately mouthed, _I'm in danger!_  
  
To her relief, Ratty's face showed not even a spark of confusion. "It's about fricken time, Ronnie," he said with a teasing smile, and Ronnie allowed herself to feel the tiniest glimmer of hope. This is why they were partners in crime.  
  
"I know, I know," Ronnie said guiltily as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the wad of bills. Looking up, she mouthed, _Call the police!_ as she handed him the money, her hand hiding it until his fingers were safely wrapped around it.  
  
"Well thanks a million," Ratty said casually, leaning back against the wall. "Give me a call when you're back."  
  
"I will," Ronnie promised, before turning and walking away with Steve.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Steve whispered suspiciously.  
  
"This girl pays her debts," Ronnie replied tartly.  
  
She had put her entire future in Ratty's hands. She estimated at that moment he was unfolding the bills, reading her note, and realizing he needed to find a payphone.  
  
She just hoped he had coins with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys! Man, that was painful to write. Thank you for continuing to read!


	8. Chapter 8

As she and Steve approached the front of the venue, Ronnie knew she had to stall. Beyond would be the parking lot and after that, she'd be lost, swept into the vastness of the lot and the darkness of a vehicle and she'd have no chance at all. She'd never been so afraid of a parking lot in her entire life.  
  
As they finally reached the entrance, Ronnie saw the distraction she needed, although she wished it didn't have to be a physical altercation. A noisy group of men were assaulting another man. Four against one. That wasn't fair.  
  
Ronnie stopped. They were a good distance away from the fight but for some reason, Steve looked uncomfortable.  
  
"Why don't you use that stupid gun of yours for good, and go help him?" Ronnie suggested.  
  
Steve scowled. "There's no time for that. Let's go."  
  
Ronnie took a few steps closer. She had originally stopped to buy herself time, but now she wanted so badly to help. She just didn't know how. She watched helplessly as the man was punched viciously in the gut, and he doubled over in obvious pain.  
  
Tilting her head, Ronnie squinted, ignoring Steve's sudden hold on her arm. There was something familiar about that man, with his lanky frame, his long brown hair, the leather jacket...Ronnie's mouth dropped open.   
  
It was John.  
  
Without a second thought, she wrenched her arm out of Steve's grasp and took off at a run, ignoring Steve's shouts behind her. At that moment she cursed her pregnant belly. Why couldn't she be faster?  
  
As she got closer, the loud jeers became practically deafening, and she saw one of the men turn John around and push him chest first into the brick wall. "What next boys?" he yelled, before turning his attention back to John and addressing him harshly. "We've given you plenty of pain, perhaps now we could give you a bit of pleasure? Maybe do it the way that queer friend of yours likes it?"  
  
John's cheek was flat against the brick of the wall, and as the disgusting man reached for John's belt, she heard John whisper weakly, "Don't you _dare_."  
  
Realizing she was being reckless and not caring one bit, Ronnie ducked under the man's arm so that she was standing between the man and John. She leaned her back gently against John's, trying to send him the message that she was there for him. He let out an almost inaudible moan of pain, and Ronnie wasn't sure if it was because she had bumped against an injury, or because her close proximity was causing him emotional distress.  
  
The man's hand shot out and grabbed her hair. "Looks like we found something better to play with," he said with a leer, and the guys around him laughed.  
  
"Let her go," Steve said vehemently as he arrived on the scene and the man took a closer look at her. Ronnie recognized him as Steve's friend from the night at the bar, and as the friend recognized her, he pulled his hand away as if he'd been burned, stepping away quickly.  
  
Ronnie didn't move from her spot in front of John, though she was aware of him sinking to the ground behind her, holding his middle.  
  
"What's this?" she asked Steve, motioning to the men.  
  
"Your escort for tonight obviously," Steve said, though he looked as if he were trying to hide something.  
  
"You're lying," Ronnie argued. "You were trying to get me to the parking lot, you didn't want me to come over here."  
  
Steve glared at her and Ronnie glanced quickly down at John, noticing the blood flowing from his nose and the way he barely looked conscious. Turning back to Steve, she yelled angrily, "You said you wouldn't hurt him!"   
  
"Wrong! I said I wouldn't _kill_ him."  
  
"This is her?" one of Steve's less smart friends asked. "The woman carrying your son?"  
  
"That's me," Ronnie said sarcastically, before turning back to Steve. "And I wish more than anything that it was anybody else's child,  _anyone_  but you."   
  
Steve wasn't moved, and Ronnie's gaze drifted past them, as she quickly tried to find a way to injure his pride. It was foolish to tempt him, but she reasoned the police were on their way, and she only needed a little bit of time. _  
_  
The rest of the gang turned to see what she was looking at, and they all saw a man walk by in the distance, eating a hot dog. His Led Zeppelin t-shirt was two sizes two small, and his beard was braided and tied neatly with a bow. They all watched together in awe as the man accidentally squeezed his hot dog out of its bun, and it fell into a puddle. He bent over, plucked it out of the dirty water, gave it a good shake, and shrugging, put it back in its bun and took a giant bite, before walking off, humming.  
  
"I'd rather be carrying his child," Ronnie said loudly.  
  
Steve was clearly insulted as the rest of the gang laughed.   
  
"Or his!" Ronnie pointed at a fat old man snoring on a bench as his wife tried to swat him awake.  
  
They heard a crash as an inebriated man fell into a nearby garbage can.  
  
"I'd rather be carrying his child, too," Ronnie said, hoping her point was coming across. And it must have, because Steve's face turned red and his friends fell into hysterics as their leader was provoked.  
  
"My point is that anyone would be better than you!" Ronnie said coldly.  
  
"Ooh she's feisty, Steve!" one of his men whispered gleefully.  
  
"Fine!" Steve yelled, ignoring his friend. "You don't want the child?" He pointed at a nearby staircase that led into the ground, and likely to the basement under the venue.  "There's a set of stairs. Why don't you go throw yourself down them?"  
  
"Oh, I've thought about it, many, many times," Ronnie replied roughly.  
  
Steve threw out his arm in the direction of the staircase. "Be my guest!"  
  
Ronnie took a step towards the staircase. "Maybe I will."  
  
"Ronnie, no," she heard John whisper from behind her.  
  
"Go ahead!" Steve said through gritted teeth.  
  
Ronnie took another step towards the stairs. "Won't that hurt your precious son?"  
  
"No, I imagine it would hurt _you_ ," Steve remarked angrily. "You're more trouble than you're worth!"  
  
"You're _so_ stupid!" Ronnie shouted. "What hurts me, hurts the baby! Don't you get that?"  
  
She saw that by interrupting the fight and embarrassing Steve in front of his friends, she had really thrown him off, but now, he seemed to gain back a bit of his common sense and realized he didn't want her to tumble down the stairs after all.  
  
"Enough," he said threateningly, pulling his gun out of his pocket and aiming it at John. "Come with me now or your _date_ will die this time."   
  
The word was like a knife in Ronnie's heart. Realizing she had lost, and could do nothing further, Ronnie stepped back in front of John, staring into the mouth of Steve's gun.  
  
"You're sick," she whispered. "All of you."  
  
At that moment, she saw her saving grace. Police lights flashed, cutting through the darkness of the night.  Steve's friends turned in panic and ran in the opposite direction. Pocketing his gun, Steve grasped Ronnie's hands and tried to drag her away, but she fell to her knees, making her weight extremely heavy.  
  
An entire team of police were running towards them, weapons out and pointed their way. "Freeze!" one of them yelled, and the old man on the bench finally woke up.  Giving up, Steve let her go, and ran after his friends, towards the parking lot. The team of police followed, hot on their heels.  
  
The night air was suddenly silent. Ronnie crawled over to John and knelt in front of him.  
  
"John," she whispered, grasping his jacket and trying to get him to look at her. "John!"  
  
John, still holding his stomach, slowly his lifted his head to look at her. Ronnie inhaled sharply as she took in his bleeding nose, the angry, red open wound on his right cheek, and the shiner that was slowly forming around his left eye. But worst of all was the anguish in his eyes.  
  
"Come on take a shot," John whispered. "Fire me higher..."  
  
Ronnie's heart nearly stopped as she realized he was quoting the song he had recently wrote, the one he had been so shy about.  
  
"Don't you miss this time, please don't misf..." Unable to finish, John's teeth caught his lower lip on the "f" sound as he turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
 _Misfire_ , Ronnie finished in her mind, as hot tears spilled down her cheeks and she realized the serious damage she had done. But she had had no choice...she _thought_ she had had no choice...  
  
In the distance, she thought she heard footsteps echoing off the pavement, and voices calling her name and John's, but that didn't matter right now.  
  
"John, no," she whispered, falling to a seated position beside him. His face was still turned away from her, so she leaned her cheek against his, and tried again. "John, I need to tell you..."  
  
She suddenly felt two arms trying to pull her away from him, and panic seized her as she thought of Steve. She clung to John, but was effortlessly pulled away from him, and though she fought her captor with gritted teeth, flying arms, and protests, she was still hauled up from the ground and pulled into a bear hug.  
  
"No," she whispered feebly, feeling her entire body begin to shake as the events of the night finally caught up with her. "No, I need to to talk to him."  
  
"Later," the voice promised, and Ronnie looked up into Ratty's anxious eyes. Her chest nearly exploded with relief, but she needed to talk to John first before she allowed herself to feel any better.  She didn't deserve to feel better until John felt better.  
  
"Now," Ronnie insisted.  
  
"Later!" Ratty said firmly. He had his arms wrapped so tightly around her that he feared he would crush her, but he was still unable to contain her trembling body.  
  
"Now, Ratty!"  
  
"We can do this all night, Ronnie," Ratty replied, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.  
  
Meanwhile, Roger had fallen to his knees beside John with an agitated cry of "Deaky!"  
  
"John?" Brian was clearly worried as he crouched next to their bassist and carefully turned John's face toward them. John opened his eyes, drowsy.  
  
"John, are you all right?" Brian asked urgently. "Can you hear me?"  
  
"I..." John closed his eyes again and Brian could see it was causing him great effort to speak. "I think my ribs are broken."  
  
"Roger, could you call an ambulance?" Brian asked, and Roger sprang to his feet immediately, and disappeared.  
  
Ronnie had given up on arguing with Ratty, and instead had thanked him over and over for saving her life, and John's life, and for even calling the band, as Ratty slid her wad of money into back her rear pocket.   
  
Freddie appeared with a policeman and gently pulling Ronnie out of Ratty's death clasp, led her away to be questioned. Ratty followed, for any kind of emotional support he was able to give. It wouldn't be much, but anything was better than nothing, he figured.  
  
Brian was left alone with John, who suddenly shot out an arm and grasped Brian's shirt.  
  
"Brian," he said hoarsely. "Brian!"  
  
"Yes? Yes, John, I'm right here," Brian said gently, leaning closer.  
  
"Brian," John pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Promise me you'll watch over her."  
  
"Of course," Brian promised, slightly confused. They always watched over Ronnie.  
  
"No," John whispered anxiously, as if Brian didn't understand. "No. She said...she said she's thought about throwing herself down the stairs."   
  
Brian suddenly felt cold. That didn't sound like Ronnie at all. But he didn't have time to dwell on it, because John was holding him so tightly and staring at him with such intensity, that he could only say, "Don't worry, John. I won't let anything happen to her."  
  
Relieved, John let go and leaned his head against the brick wall, closing his eyes once more. Unsure of what else he could do, Brian put his arm around his younger bandmate and prayed that an ambulance would come soon.  
  
Roger returned not long after, and sat cross-legged on John's other side. He picked up the bassist's hand and John's eyes fluttered briefly. Roger saw that there were ugly scrapes lining John's palm and, not wanting to hurt him, Roger held his fingertips, instead.  
  
After a few minutes, John whispered, "I think I'm going to be sick."  
  
Roger and Brian glanced at each other, before they each ducked under one of John's arms and lifted him as gently as they could. Supporting almost all of his weight, they quickly made their way over to the nearest trash can, the one that had been knocked over by the inebriated man. Roger kicked the can upright, revealing the man behind it.  
  
"This one's taken," he rasped.  
  
"Oh, piss off!" Brian growled, as Roger leered at the man. Deciding it wasn't worth the trouble, the drunk man slipped away.  
  
"Okay, Deaky, we've found you a really nice trash can," Roger said. "Let loose."  
  
Leaning over the garbage can and grasping the metal rim with his left hand and his ribs with his right arm, John threw up over and over again, until he was dry-heaving in pain. Roger shot Brian a panicked look as John sunk to the ground, shaking.  
  
"Is he cold?" Roger whispered, dropping to the ground and wrapping his arms around his bandmate from behind.  
  
Brian shook his head. "I don't know, Rog. He could be in shock. He's in a lot of pain."  
  
They heard the sound of an ambulance arriving at that moment. Relieved, Brian ran to meet them, while Roger stayed with John and tried to keep him warm.  
  
\---  
  
"Did you catch him?" Freddie asked the policeman in a low voice after Ronnie had given her statement, standing very close to the uniformed man.  
  
The man squirmed in discomfort at Freddie's unnaturally close proximity. "We're doing everything we can..." he began professionally.

  
" _Yes_ ," Freddie said impatiently, leaning his face closer to the officer's. "But did you _catch him_?"  
  
"We caught his friends. But we haven't caught him yet."  
  
Ratty let out an audible groan as Ronnie gave Freddie a terrified look. Steering her away with an arm around her shoulders, Freddie thanked the officer, while Ratty mentally thanked the officer for nothing.  
  
When they heard the ambulance sirens, Ronnie broke free from Freddie and ran towards the sound, her heart in her throat. By the time they reached the vehicle, John was being loaded into the back of the ambulance.  
  
One of the paramedics looked around at the group of them. "There's room for two of you, if anyone would like to come with him."  
  
Not wasting even a second, Roger shot forward and scrambled into the back of the ambulance.  
  
Ronnie lunged after him, but Brian caught her. Ronnie looked up at him with imploring eyes. "Brian, I need to go with him."  
  
"Ronnie, I don't think that's the best idea," Brian said gently. "Roger will watch over him."  
  
"No, Brian, I _need_ to go with him," Ronnie said thickly.  
  
"Ronnie, you're in no condition to go anywhere," Brian said as put a hand to her forehead, and then felt the pulse on her wrist. "You're skin is cold, you're shaking, your pulse is hammering like mad. You're in shock."  
  
"I'll go, darling," Freddie assured her. "Don't worry, he will be in the best of hands."  
  
They didn't understand, Ronnie thought. They thought this was only about her being worried. And she _was_ terribly worried, but she had to speak to John before too much time passed.   
  
No one knew what had happened between them. When giving her statement, she had only mentioned being held at gunpoint, and the fight. She hadn't told the police, Freddie, and Ratty the terrible conversation that had occurred.  
  
Before she could protest further, Freddie placed a set of keys in Brian's hand. "Take her to our flat," he said in a low voice. "She'll be safe there. They haven't caught that arsehole yet." And with that, he climbed into the ambulance, and with a flash of light and sound, they were gone.  
  
Ronnie watched until the vehicle disappeared down the street, before turning to Brian, and saying desperately, "Brian, _please_."  
  
"I'm sorry, Ronnie," Brian said quietly.  
  
"Ronnie, I need to go find my date," Ratty announced, stepping forward. "I sort of left her somewhere." He gave her a quick hug. "I'll check in on you tomorrow, all right?"  
  
"Thank you, Ratty, for everything," Ronnie said, and with a lopsided smile, Ratty disappeared. Ronnie then allowed the gratitude to melt off her face as she turned a look of despair on Brian.  
  
"You need to rest," Brian said, taking her arm and leading her down the street, where he and the boys had parked very quickly and very illegally. "You and your body have been placed under an incredible amount of strain tonight. You need to think about yourself and the baby."  
  
Hearing those words made Ronnie feel sick. She couldn't think about herself or the baby, not when John was in so much pain...  
  
"He's going to be all right, Ronnie," Brian continued. "Roger and Freddie are with him, and by tomorrow morning, we'll all be together again."  
  
Ronnie kept her mouth shut, afraid that if she opened it, she'd say something nasty. She let Brian help her into the passenger side of the car and as he shut the van door, she couldn't help but feel like she was in a prison.  
  
\---  
  
Within fifteen minutes, Ronnie was in the bathroom of Freddie and Roger's flat, changing into a shirt and pajama bottoms of Roger's that Brian had found. The fabric clung tightly to her middle and it only worsened her mood. She was getting fatter. She was going to ruin Roger's shirt.  
  
Deciding she needed to try at least one more time to get to the emergency room, Ronnie left the bathroom and opened the door to Freddie's room, where Brian was waiting on the bed.  
  
"Brian, please," she pleaded, as he stood up. "Please bring me to the emergency room."  
  
Brian opened his mouth to rationally let her down easy, but Ronnie grasped his sleeves. "Brian, you don't understand," she said, feeling her emotion rising. "I need to see John immediately."  
  
"Ronnie, he's in good hands," Brian assured her.  
  
"No!" Ronnie interrupted him, hearing the hysteria in her own voice. "It's not that! I need to talk to him right away." A tear slid down her cheek. "I said such terrible things to him, I - "  
  
"He is in no condition to have a conversation," Brian said firmly, as he took Ronnie by the elbows and sat her on the bed. "Right now, he needs professional care."  
  
Ronnie shook her head wildly, "No, Brian, no, _I need_ to - "  
  
Brian knelt in front of her and took her hands. "Ronnie, please. What you need to do is calm down. Take a deep breath." He demonstrated a deep breath for her.  
  
Ronnie tried and failed, her hands shaking in Brian's.  
  
"You are still in shock," Brian said firmly and slowly, as if she hadn't yet accepted the fact, "which is why you need to try and relax. This stress is not good for you right now. And it's not good for the baby."  
  
 _The baby this, the baby that!_ Ronnie thought irritably.  
  
"I don't care!" Ronnie said outloud, knowing she was being irrational. She didn't feel like herself any more; she felt like a totally different person. She liked un-pregnant Ronnie so much more than pregnant Ronnie. Un-pregnant Ronnie would never have argued with Brian, would never have said she didn't care about herself or a child, would never have broken John's heart...  
  
Brian's heart sunk. He remembered John's words then... _Promise me you'll watch over her. She said...she said she's thought about throwing herself down the stairs_. He had hoped it had been the ramblings of a man in pain, but maybe there was some truth in it...  
  
"Ronnie," Brian began slowly, rising from the floor and sitting on the bed next to her. "Ronnie, is it true that you've thought about throwing yourself down a set of stairs?"  
  
Ronnie turned to him, stunned. "Where do you hear that?"  
  
"John."  
  
Ronnie stared at him in disbelief. Brian took her silence to mean agreement.  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said softly, trying to keep the pain out of his own voice. "Promise me you won't ever do anything to hurt yourself. We've all tried so hard to protect you..."  
  
Ronnie dropped her head and stared at their interlinked hands. This couldn't be happening. They couldn't be having this conversation.  
  
"...that's what the four of us agreed to do the night we made the pact - "  
  
Ronnie's head snapped up. "You made a pact?"  
  
"Well, yes, we - "  
  
"You made a _pact_?" It was the final straw. If her world hadn't fallen apart enough before, it was completely shattered now. "I thought you were my friends!"  
  
She was quite certain that becoming pregnant was the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and yet, in the past few months, it hadn't felt like it, and that's because she felt like she had a group of friends who truly cared about her and who accepted her even in spite of what had happened. That's the only thing that had made her ordeal bearable.   
  
But they had felt they needed to make a pact to be her friends? She had thought they had been acting out of true friendship, but they had really all made an agreement.  
  
"Ronnie, of course we're your _friends_!" Brian exclaimed.  
  
"But you felt you needed to make a formal agreement to maintain your friendship with me?" Ronnie cried out, springing up from the bed.  
  
"Ronnie, I didn't say that!" Brian said in disbelief. "You're exaggerating what I said."  
  
"I didn't want pity! I didn't want sympathy!" She had never felt so alone.  
  
"The only agreement we made was that we would support you in any way we could!" Brian protested, standing and taking a step towards her. "That's what friends _do_ , Ronnie!"  
  
"Did you shake on it?" Ronnie asked cruelly. "Spit on it? Bet money? Seal your bargain with blood?"  
  
" _Ronnie_!" Brian whispered, shocked, and Ronnie tried to ignore the hurt look on his face. She gave him one last crippling look of agonized disbelief, before turning for the door.  
  
In a flash, Brian was in front of it, blocking her way. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Home!"  
  
"Ronnie, you know you can't go there," Brian exclaimed. "Steve is still out there somewhere, it's not safe!"  
  
"I don't care anymore," Ronnie shot back. "Let me go, Brian."  
  
"No, Ronnie, I can't do that."  
  
Ronnie reached out and grasped the door knob. She knew he was stronger than her, but she had to try. She tugged on it, and Brian leaned heavily against the door, digging his heels into the carpet, to try to keep it shut. He tried not to think about how utterly ridiculous this situation was. It would be slightly funny if it wasn't so serious.  
  
"Ronnie, if you don't stop, I..."  
  
Ronnie released the knob, taking satisfaction in the way Brian suddenly and unexpectedly fell back against the door. "You'll what? You all seem to think I can't take care of myself and am capable of terrible things! Mind as well put me in an asylum, Brian!"  
  
"I'll do better than that," Brian said in a low, dangerous voice, and Ronnie was momentarily taken aback. He sounded so...not like Brian.  
  
He leaned towards her and said fiercely, "I'll handcuff us together and you will never be alone again. We will do _everything_ together, Ronnie - sleep, eat, piss. You will never be free of me."  
  
"You're a performer, Brian!" Ronnie spat him. "You wouldn't dare take me on stage."  
  
"Oh, wouldn't I?" Brian replied sarcastically. "I'd do whatever it takes. And that way, you would never, _ever_ make it down a set of stairs by yourself and you'd know you..." the fire left him at that moment, and he whispered, "...that you always have a friend."  
  
Ronnie stared at him, horrified. She wanted so badly to curse him, to say something equally shocking, but instead, her lower lip trembled and turning from him, she burst into tears.  
  
Brian's face fell. "Ronnie..."  
  
Feeling like a child, she crawled onto the bed, unable to control her sobs. She was so miserable, she was so unhappy, she was so hurt...and tonight she had hurt John, and she had hurt Brian, a very un-Ronnie thing to do.   
  
"Ronnie," Brian said again, as he sat on the bed and tried to pull her towards him. She feebly swatted him away, but his arms were much longer, and after a few moments, the fight left her, and she let him hold her as she sobbed hysterically.  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said soothingly, rocking her back and forth. "Ronnie, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Brian, I would never hurt myself or an unborn baby," Ronnie cried. "Never! How could you think that of me?"  
  
"How could you think that we were only your friends because we felt bad for you?" Brian asked in return. "We've been your friends since the beginning, Ronnie. This band has so much love for you. The only difference is now we're closer than we were before."  
  
Ronnie, thinking of John, wept harder. If that was even possible.  
  
"When I said we made a pact, I meant we made a pact to make sure that nothing happened to you," Brian continued, rubbing her back briskly. "It was a pact to support you in whatever you encountered on this long road of pregnancy, no matter what. It wasn't a pact to be your friends, because we don't need a pact for that."  
  
"Really?" Ronnie asked, her voice muffled in his shirt.  
  
"Of course," Brian said sincerely.  
  
"Brian, I'm so sorry," Ronnie whispered. "Please forgive me."  
  
"There's nothing to forgive," Brian said gently. "But now, you should really get some sleep."  
  
Ronnie, too tired to fight anymore, nodded. Sliding under the covers, she let her head sink into Freddie's pillow, as Brian sat next to her, leaning against the headboard. She looked up at him, and he smiled. "I'll be right here," he promised, and with that, she closed her eyes and fell asleep immediately.  
  
\---  
  
In the emergency department, Roger and Freddie sat in silence at John's bedside. They had been there for _hours_ and now it seemed they were finally close to going home. John had suffered through x-rays, a surgical repair of his cheek laceration, the temporary packing of his nose to stem the bleeding, the cleansing of cuts, scrapes, and other various wounds, and the wrapping of a giant bandage around the ribs that the doctor had confirmed were fractured.  
  
Throughout it all, John had said nothing. If he didn't have to, he didn't even open his eyes. Now, as Freddie stared at his friend and the scrapes and bruises that covered his body, he thought that Steve's gang really had beaten the shit out of him, but something else had happened. Something wasn't right.  
  
Suddenly, John's eyes snapped open. Raising his head slowly, he asked in a weak voice, "Is Ronnie all right?"  
  
"Yes, darling," Freddie said, leaning over the bedside to give John an reassuring smile. "She's back at the flat with Brian."  
  
Seemingly relieved, John lowered his head back onto the pillow, and closed his eyes.  
  
Roger, also wanting to give his friend some kind of reassurance, added, "We'll bring you there as soon as they tell us you're good to go here."  
  
Freddie watched in shock as John's eyes opened once more, this time in alarm, and he tried to raise himself up. He hissed as the pain in his ribs flared, and whispered, "No...no, please. Please, bring me back to my flat."  
  
"Darling, how can we care for you there?" Freddie asked, gently pushing him back down against the pillows. "You'll need to stay with us for awhile."  
  
"No," John repeated. "Please don't b-bring me there..."  
  
John was so agitated that Freddie didn't have the heart to argue with him. "We'll talk about it, darling," he said in a soothing voice, and John seemed to accept that, once more closing his eyes.  
  
Feeling conflicted, Freddie rose from his chair and muttered to Roger that he was going to call Brian, and Roger nodded.  
  
As soon as Freddie was gone, Roger watched as John turned his head away and swallowed hard, a tear slowly escaping from under his closed eyelid and down his cut cheek.  
  
\---  
  
Returning to John's room, Freddie was surprised to see Roger wasn't in his chair, as he should have been, but lying on the bed next to John, casually flipping through a hospital pamphlet on pregnancy.  
  
"Roger," Freddie said sternly, although the sight was endearing. "You're going to get us kicked out, dear."  
  
"I don't care," Roger said defiantly. "He needs us, Freddie." He had been planning on pointing out John's tear as proof that he was completely justified in sitting in bed with the patient, but it was long gone.  
  
Sitting back in his chair, Freddie raised an eyebrow at Roger's reading material. "Learning anything interesting?" he asked.  
  
"Not really," Roger replied, shoving the pamphlet into his jacket pocket. "I was going to bring it back for Brian. I thought he might find it interesting."  
  
Freddie pretended to itch his nose, though he was really trying to hide a smile. "An emergency department souvenir. How very thoughtful, dear."  
  
Roger nodded in agreement at his own thoughtfulness. "Though the pictures in Brian's book are better..."  
  
"Maybe you should get a pamphlet for Ronnie, too," Freddie suggested.  
  
Roger brightened. "Good idea, Freddie! I saw one on safe sex..."  
  
Freddie was about to tell Roger to shut up, but a small noise from the bed stopped him.   
  
The noise had been the smallest of sniffles, and looking down, Freddie watched as one tear, and then another, ran down John's face. Alarmed, Roger looked at Freddie and tapped his nose urgently.  
  
The entire night's strange and unexplained events, as well as now seeing one of his best friends in terrible physical and emotional pain, was beginning to wear Freddie's composure down, and he irritably mouthed _I don't know what this means!_ while pulling on his own nose dramatically.  
  
"Tissue!" Roger hissed.  
  
Freddie reached over to the bedside table and tossed the box at Roger, before taking John's hand. Roger, meaning to utilize a single tissue, pulled out a fistful of at least twelve, and very gently, wiped John's tears away and dabbed uselessly at his nose, before giving up and leaning his cheek on top of John's head.  
  
John, eyes still closed, took in one, long shuddering breath and another tear escaped.  
  
"Oh, darling," Freddie said sadly.  
  
He felt John squeeze his fingers tightly as if the pain was simply unbearable.


	9. Chapter 9

It was one of the most beautiful sunsets that Ronnie had ever seen, but she couldn't have cared less.  
  
As Brian drove his van into the setting sun, Ronnie reclined back in the passenger seat, legs stretched out and bare feet resting on the dashboard (with Brian's permission, of course), arms folded over her growing stomach, hair blowing in the breeze from the open window. It would have been perfect if the night before hadn't been such an utter shitshow.  
  
She had awoken that morning with the best of intentions, determined to finally speak with John and make everything right. She had been so hopeful. And yet, here she was, cruising down the highway with Brian to an unknown destination, getting further and further away from John, and further and further away from any hope of reconciliation.  
Ronnie glanced at Brian out of the corner of her eye, noticing how he gripped the steering wheel, his fingers tapping on it anxiously. She knew he was waiting for an opportunity to ask her about what had happened the night before.  
  
Leaning forward, she turned on the radio, a bit louder than was necessary. _There_ , she thought. _That should deter him._  
  
Brian broke out of his trance when he heard the loud music and glanced at the radio. Starman. Bowie. He turned to look at Ronnie and she gave him an apologetic smile. He smiled back, but he knew what she was doing. Avoiding the subject.  
  
Damn Bowie for assisting her with that.  
  
 _ **Eight Hours Earlier**_  
  
"Good morning sunshine," Brian said, though he was not smiling when he entered the living room and put a cup of tea in front of Freddie.   
  
Freddie mumbled an incoherent thank you, as he lit his third cigarette of the morning, and frowned. He didn't offer any explanations, information, or morning greetings.  
  
"You look like shit," Brian said honestly.  
  
Freddie's lip curled up in the faintest of smiles. "Thank you, darling."  
  
Silence. Tense, uncomfortable, smoke-filled silence.  
  
"Well?" Brian asked finally.   
  
"Yes, darling?"  
  
"How is he?"  
  
Freddie blew out smoke in a fit of frustration. "I'll be damned if I know."  
  
"My God, you're irritable this morning," Brian muttered, reaching for the morning paper.  
  
Freddie suddenly jammed his unfinished cigarette into an ashtray with much more force than was needed. "Because something is terribly wrong, Brian," he said, his voice slowly beginning to crescendo, until it was borderline loud. "And I've been sitting here for hours trying to figure out what could have happened and my imagination is so overworked that I haven't slept and I cannot bear to see Deaky in..." he stopped suddenly, remembering John and glancing towards Roger's closed bedroom door. "...in so much pain," he finished in a quieter voice, reaching for the cigarettes again.  
  
Brian snatched the pack before Freddie could. "How about a nice cup of tea instead, Fred? Perhaps something that will sustain your body instead of kill it?"  
  
"Fuck it," Freddie said dismissively, but when Brian threw him the pack, he didn't light up again, and took a sip of tea instead.  
  
"Freddie," Brian said, this time in a softer tone. "Did you ask John what happened?"  
  
"If you had seen him late last night, you wouldn't have asked him what happened either."  
  
Roger slipped out of his bedroom at that moment, and closed the door quietly behind him.  
  
"How is he?" Freddie asked immediately.  
  
"The same," Roger replied, and Brian couldn't help but think how uncharacteristic it was of Roger to offer such a short answer. He looked as bad as Freddie did.  
  
"So he didn't say _anything_ last night about what happened?" Brian asked.  
  
Freddie eyed his pack of cigarettes. "He only spoke twice. The first time was to ask if Ronnie was all right. The second time was to beg us not to bring him to the flat if Ronnie was here. After that, he'd only nod, or shake his head in response to our questions."  
  
The room fell silent once more.  
  
"But you know that's so not like him!" Freddie exclaimed suddenly, jumping up from the sofa and beginning to pace the room. "Nothing ever bothers John. Nothing. Not cool, calm, happy Deaky. So you know that whatever happened last night really struck him here." Freddie pounded a fist against his heart.  
  
"Nothing every bothers Deaky?" Roger asked doubtfully. "What about the time Brian was playing too slow and - "  
  
"That was you, Roger," Freddie interrupted him.  
  
"Perhaps," Roger half-agreed. "But what about that other time when - "  
  
"That was also you," Freddie said.  
  
"You didn't even let me finish!"  
  
"Because I _know_ , darling."  
  
Ignoring Freddie, Roger turned to Brian. "I've never seen Deaky cry before."  
  
"I don't think you could call it crying exactly," Freddie said, looking pained. "It was more like he was leaking moisture."  
  
"Yeah, that's called crying!" Roger yelled suddenly, leaping up from the couch.  
  
"Enough!" Brian shouted, before lowering his voice and saying firmly, "Both of you. To bed. Now."  
  
"Who was crying?" Ronnie asked, wandering into the living room.   
  
The three bandmates stared at her, before all looking at each other.   
  
"No one, dear," Freddie said quickly, at the same time that Roger's face broke into a grin and he remarked, "Nice shirt!"  
  
Ronnie looked down. "I'm sorry, Roger. I've stretched out your shirt and ruined it."  
  
"Keep it," Roger insisted. "It looks better on you anyway."  
  
"How very generous of you!" Brian muttered, as he got up and pushed Roger towards Freddie's bedroom. "This is exactly my point, Roger. One moment you're yelling, the next moment you're handing out compliments. You both need sleep."  
  
Freddie, light on his feet as always, trotted past Roger and beat him to the bedroom door. "Pity about your bed being taken, Rog," he said sweetly. "Guess you'll have to sleep in the bathtub. Or with Deaky."  
  
"I'd rather sleep with Deaky than you any day!" Roger fumed.  
  
"Is he..." Ronnie began and everyone turned to look at her. "Is he awake?"  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence as Freddie realized they would need to deny Ronnie access to Roger's bedroom without letting her know that she was being denied access.  
  
"Unfortunately no, darling," Freddie said carefully. "We only got home a few hours ago. He's fast asleep."  
  
Ronnie looked disappointed, but nodded, as Brian opened Freddie's bedroom door, pushed them both in, and turned to leave.  
  
Freddie pretended to suddenly remember something. "Will you tuck us in, dear?"  
  
" _Excuse_ me?" Brian asked.  
  
Freddie reached out, grasped Brian's arm, and pulled him into the room. Trying to hide a smile, Ronnie wandered into the kitchen.  
  
"Tuck yourselves in!" Brian said crossly once the door was closed behind them.  
  
"Oh, don't flatter yourself," Freddie said, as Roger fell onto the bed, belly first. "I only wanted you in here to ask you to keep an eye out for Deaky in the meantime."  
  
"Of course," Brian consented.  
  
"And to keep Ronnie away from him," Freddie added, looking slightly guilty.  
  
"Do you know how difficult that's going to be?" Brian asked. "All she talked about last night was how she needed to speak to him."  
  
"That may be so," Freddie agreed, "but I want him to feel he has some kind of security here, especially after we brought him here against his wishes." Seeing Brian's concerned expression, he added, "It's not forever. Just for now."  
  
Brian sighed, but then nodded his agreement. Freddie patted his cheek in thanks, and got into his bed, where Roger was already fast asleep. Opening the door, Brian stopped suddenly.  
  
He had an idea.  
  
 ** _Present (In the Van)_**  
  
Ronnie didn't have the slightest clue what Brian's idea was, but she had followed his directions anyway. Maybe it's because she had developed a strange, strong sense of trust in him following last night's confrontation. Maybe it was because she wanted to make it up to him for having such a massive melt-down. Likely it was both.  
  
Ratty had been instructed to take her to her home, where she packed enough clothes and essentials for a few months, and closed up the flat. So she was going away, she'd been told.  
  
Then, Brian had asked her to go to the diner and tell Lou she was taking her pregnancy leave four months early. So she was going away for a long time, she'd figured.  
  
Finally, Ratty had taken her out for lunch. They were trying to keep her out of Freddie and Roger's flat, she realized.  
  
Ronnie's heart contracted painfully as she remembered the moment she had walked into her own flat for the first time since the night before, Ratty on her heels, and spotted the jar of peanut butter. It was still there on the counter, where she'd hastily left it when John had knocked on her door, with the spoon sticking out of the jar. Picking up the jar, she had hugged it to her chest and bit down on her lip to keep from sobbing out loud.  
  
"Don't cry, Ronnie!" Ratty had said instantly. "We can always get you another jar of peanut butter, though I'm sure this one isn't stale yet..."  
  
He didn't understand, Ronnie knew that much. How could he? How could he know it wasn't the peanut butter she was upset about, but the fact that she associated this jar of peanut butter with her failed date and everything that had gone wrong the night before? How it reminded her that if John had never come, they wouldn't be in this mess. But she didn't feel like explaining it, so she merely nodded.   
  
She didn't think she'd ever enjoy peanut butter again.  
  
 _ **Four Hours Earlier**_  
  
Once Ronnie had left with Ratty, Brian made the phone calls that he needed to make, and then leaned back into the sofa cushions, exhausted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronnie's sweater thrown over the back of the reclining chair to his right. Alarmed, he wondered what she had worn out of the flat if her sweater was there on the chair, but then remembered that Roger had so generously given her his shirt.  
  
He'd have to remember to give it to her later, before he whisked her away to the countryside.  
  
Brian had just closed his eyes when he heard a small creak. Eyes snapping open, he watched as Roger's door opened a crack, and an eye peered out at him.  
  
"Good morning, Deaky," Brian said warmly.  
  
The door opened a bit wider, and leaning slightly out of the doorway, John whispered, "Is she here?"  
  
Brian had to admit that watching John try to avoid Ronnie actually hurt. But he gave him a reassuring smile and said, "No, she'll be out for a little while."  
  
John stepped out into the light and Brian fought to keep the surprise off of his face. He looked _terrible_.   
  
It was if he had aged overnight. There were deep circles under his eyes, along with a shiny red ring around his left eye. A giant, red gash ran across his entire cheek, the skin held together with sharp sutures, and cuts and scrapes lined his arms and his neck. His face - once so open and always ready to crack a smile - was now a solemn mask, as if he were trying to hide any trace of emotion, as if he were trying not to feel anything. He hadn't yet met Brian's eyes.  
  
"John?"  
  
John lifted his gaze and Brian was almost blown away by the sheer amount of misery in his red-rimmed eyes. He was suffering. But why? He thought of Freddie's words from earlier. _If you had seen him late last night, you wouldn't have asked him what happened either._   
  
John excused himself then, and Brian watched him make his way down the hall and to the bathroom, wincing in pain as he went. Brian thought desperately to himself that they all needed to at least _try_ to talk to him.  
  
John was clearly a broken man, inside and out, and Brian found himself wondering how they would continue to record their third album, or go back on tour, with their bassist in such a state. Immediately, he felt guilty. That wasn't important right now, what was important was John's well being, and his happiness, and -  
  
_That was it!_ Brian thought as he sat up straighter. John was enjoying recording the album and writing his song, John loved touring the country, and he knew John wanted to invade America as much as the rest of them did. That was the key to making John whole again, he was certain of it.  
  
But before he could get John excited about the band again, it would be helpful to know what was wrong in the first place.  
  
At that moment, Freddie's bedroom door opened, and Roger shuffled out.  
  
"Why aren't you sleeping?" Brian asked. "You've slept what, maybe four hours?"  
  
"That's all you need when you're fabulous, darling," Freddie replied with a yawn, as he followed Roger into the living room and dropped into the reclining chair.  
  
"And Freddie's a poor sleeping companion," Roger added irritably, sitting himself on the opposite end of the sofa.  
  
"Said no one ever," Freddie declared.  
  
"Where's Deaky?" Roger asked suddenly, noticing the open door of his bedroom.  
  
"Bathroom," Brian replied, before leaning forward and saying in a low voice, "I think we should all try to talk to him when he comes out. It'll be a band effort."  
  
"It's out of the question, darling," Freddie said sternly.  
  
"No, I have an idea, Fred," Brian insisted. "A really good one."  
  
"Says you," Roger pointed out.  
  
Brian ignored him. "But before I can put that idea in motion, it would be helpful to learn what happened last night."  
  
Freddie leaned forward. "He's in no condition to tell us what happened. Have you _seen_ him?"  
  
"Yes, I've seen him," Brian replied. "And that's _not_ Deaky."  
  
"So what's your grand idea?" Freddie asked curiously.  
  
"What solves all of life's woes?"  
  
"Alcohol," Freddie guessed, at the same time that Roger piped up with, "Cars?"  
  
"Music!"  
  
"You want me to sing to him?" Freddie asked sarcastically. "What do you suggest, Doing All Right?"  
  
"How about Keep Yourself Alive?" Roger whispered and Freddie frowned at him.  
  
"No," Brian said. "We need to get him totally involved in the band again. Writing, recording, touring..."  
  
Freddie's mouth fell open. "You're joking."  
  
Brian looked surprised. "No, I'm serious."  
  
"Last night, those areseholes beat the hell out of him, and Ronnie apparently broke his heart into little tiny pieces, and you're saying that, less than twenty-four hours later, he should be up and concentrating on the _band_?"  
  
"That's _not_ what I said - " Brian said stiffly.  
  
"How _insensitive_ can you be, Brian!"  
  
Brian looked genuinely offended. "I am _not_ being insensitive! I'm only saying that perhaps Queen would distract him, act as a kind of therapy for him..."  
  
"Well I'm saying that he's our best friend and he matters more than the band right now."  
  
Before Brian could open his mouth to argue, Roger shouted, "Stop!"  
  
Freddie and Brian turned to Roger in surprise.  
  
"Why don't you ask Deaky what he thinks?" Roger suggested, before nodding to the doorway. "He's standing right there."  
  
Freddie and Brian looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. _How long had Deaky been standing there?_ Then they turned to the doorway and sure enough, there John was, looking stunned.  
  
"Deaky, darling!" Freddie exclaimed, looking positively guilty as he sprang up from the chair.  
  
"Ask me what?" John asked, his voice quieter than usual.  
  
Freddie looped his arm through John's and led him over to the sofa.  
  
"Sit here and make yourself comfortable, dear," Freddie said, avoiding the question and sitting John down between Brian and Roger. "Can we get you anything?"  
  
"No," John said, before adding politely, "Thank you."  
  
They all sat together in awkward silence, Freddie and Brian glaring at each other, while John looked at the floor. Not able to stand the tension any longer, Roger said anxiously to Brian and Freddie, "Well, go on!"  
  
"John, what happened last night?" Brian asked suddenly.  
  
John looked up very quickly, as if he had suffered a shock to his system, and Freddie gave Brian a look of disbelief, before turning to John and saying, "You don't have to tell us anything if you don't want to, dear."  
  
Roger crossed his arms, obviously torn between wanting to know every juicy detail and wanting to respect John's feelings.  
  
Brian turned an angry look upon Freddie. "Fred, he will feel better if he talks about it."  
  
"And I'm saying he'll feel better if he does what makes him comfortable," Freddie shot back. "I'm only trying to protect him, darling."  
  
"You're enabling him!"  
  
"You're overreacting!"  
  
"Fine," Brian said, throwing up his hands. "We'll wait. Let's all pretend nothing's wrong."  
  
"Oh, piss off."  
  
Roger had stood up and started to pace around the living room. "Stop fighting," he groaned. No one had seemed to notice that John was disappearing deeper back into his own thoughts, as he tried to avoid the confrontation around him.  
  
"But I'll tell you this much, Fred," Brian practically spat. "We will give _you_ the honor of keeping Ronnie away from him. Then tell me how good an idea it is to pretend everything's normal."  
  
Freddie threw himself back into the recliner in a huff. "You just know I'm right."  
  
"You're a lot of things, but you're not that," Brian muttered.  
  
"How about we ask Roger's opinion?" Freddie asked, turning to the drummer, who had stopped behind his chair.  
  
"No!" Roger said darkly. "That's not fair!"  
  
"Why not?" Brian asked bitterly. "You have no problem expressing your opinion about everything else!"  
  
In a sudden fit of rage, Roger grabbed the nearest object - Ronnie's sweater - rolled it into a ball, and threw it at Brian. Only, it never reached Brian.  
  
It hit John in the face instead, and then fell onto his lap.  
  
John snapped out of his trance and looked down, confused. Slowly, he lifted the sweater off of his lap and stared at it.  
  
They all watched in horror as recognition washed over him, and twisting his fingers into the soft fabric, he held the sweater to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
"And that proves my point," Freddie said in a soft, angry voice. "Stop suffocating him."  
  
John opened his eyes slowly, as Freddie's words brought him back to the night before. _Because you're suffocating me!_ Ronnie had yelled at him. _And I can't take it anymore!  
_  
"I didn't know," John whispered.  
  
The rest of the band looked at each other, bewildered, before Freddie moved out of the chair and crouched on the floor in front of him. "What didn't you know, dear?"  
  
John's eyes had shown them nothing but despair up until that point, but at that moment, a fire ignited in them.  
  
"How _could_ I have known?" His bitter voice was laced with tears. And with that, he stood up, threw the sweater into the empty reclining chair, and quickly left the room. They all heard Roger's bedroom door slam shut.  
  
"We need to keep it together!" Roger yelled, after they had all stared at the closed bedroom door for ten seconds. "Don't you see? We need to to keep it together for Deaky, because he can't keep it together for himself right now!"  
  
Brian nodded. "Roger's right," he said quietly. "Freddie, I'm sorry."  
  
"Me too, darling," Freddie said sadly, before reaching over and grasping Brian's hand. "This is a tricky situation, indeed."  
  
"But I think we discovered one thing," Brian said.  
  
"And what's that, dear?"  
  
"Not only is John devastated by what happened," Brian said slowly. "He's also angry."  
  
Roger ran a hand down his face, and dropped into the empty sofa space next to Brian.  
  
"But I have an idea," Brian continued, and that's when he told them where he was taking Ronnie.  
  
 ** _Present (In the Van)_**  
  
The loud radio had been Ronnie's savior thus far. Alone with her thoughts as they continued their long drive to wherever, Ronnie did what she had been doing since she woke up that morning: replaying the previous night's events in her head, over and over again, trying to figure out what she could have done differently.  
  
At the time, she had felt she had no choice but to hurt John, but now she realized there could have been another way. There was always another way, wasn't there? But no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't think of what that other way could have been. But she knew it existed and that's what kept her from telling Brian her side of the story.  
  
The boys would be understanding, she knew that much, but she had hurt one of their own and she was furious with herself. She was embarrassed at what she had resorted to, just to save their lives, and she didn't want the rest of the band to know. It's possible that John would tell them, but for some reason, she knew he hadn't.  
  
At that moment, the radio shut off, and Ronnie knew Brian was going to ask her. She immediately closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.  
  
"I know you're not sleeping," she heard Brian say, slightly amused.  
  
Ronnie opened her eyes. "Nothing gets past you, huh?"  
  
Brian was smiling, but he turned serious much too quickly. "Ronnie, last night..."  
  
A tear slipped down Ronnie's cheek. "I know you want to know what happened," she said quietly. "And I will tell you eventually."  
  
Brian turned to look at her.  
  
"But I can't tell you now," Ronnie finished in a whisper, and she hoped he understood that she wasn't ready to tell anyone yet, not until she was done processing it herself.  
Brian nodded, reached over, and gave her hand a squeeze. "I understand."  
  
 ** _Two Hours Earlier_**  
  
Ronnie approached Roger's closed bedroom door. It was now or never. She and Brian would be leaving in a few minutes and then her opportunity would be lost. She placed her hand on the cool metal of the door knob, twisted it to the left, and opened it a crack.  
  
Very suddenly, Freddie had taken her hand, twirled her in a circle, and swept her away in a waltz down the hall.  
  
"Freddie!" she exclaimed, surprised. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I just felt like dancing, that's all," Freddie said with a grin.  
  
Ronnie pushed him away with a laugh, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roger sneek over to the door and shut it once more. They were trying to keep her from going into the bedroom, weren't they?  Narrowing her eyes, she began to make her way back down the hall. "I think I forgot something."  
  
Freddie was by her side immediately, staying very close to her. "I'll help you."  
  
"Oh, that won't be necessary," Ronnie insisted, stopping by Roger's bedroom door once more.  
  
"You forgot something in my room?" Roger asked, confused.  
  
Ronnie smiled sadly at them. She was running out of time. "Yes.  His name is John and I need to talk to him."  
  
Although it was clear they were trying to hide it, Ronnie immediately saw the alarm on their faces as they both stood protectively in front of the door.  
  
"He's sleeping," Freddie said, at the same time that Roger blurted out, "He's meditating."  
  
Ronnie crossed her arms. "He doesn't want to see me, does he?"  
  
"No one said that, darling," Freddie said uneasily.  
  
Ronnie reached out and pressed her hand against the door. "But it's true, isn't it?"  
  
Freddie could see Roger was on the verge of giving in, and to be honest, he desperately wanted to give in too, but all he had to do was remember the way that John had stared at Ronnie's sweater, and his protective nature took over.  
  
"How about you write something down and we can give it to him?" Freddie suggested. "Or you could give us a message?"  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "No," she said. "No, thank you. This is something I need to say to him face to face." And with that, she turned away from the door.  
  
"They'll all follow in just a couple of days," Brian told her when she approached him at the open front door. "When John's well enough to travel. You'll have your chance then."  
Ronnie gave him a tight smile, but didn't tell him that it would likely be too late by then. It was probably too late now. The damage was truly done. Roger and Freddie looked at each other guiltily.   
  
What they didn't know was that, in the brief moment that the bedroom door had been cracked open, John had peeked out and seen Ronnie dancing with Freddie. He had watched as her eyes had sparkled, and how her hair had tumbled down her back when she threw back her head and laughed. She was happy, she was free of him, she wasn't the least bit affected by what had happened the night before.  
  
Now, he leaned his forehead against the door and pressed the palms of his hands into the wood. He had been curious about what she had wanted to say to him, but now he didn't care. It was clear that Ronnie could move on more easily than he ever could.  
  
It was just too bad she had taken his broken heart with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have some kind of reunion, I promise! Thank you for continuing to read - please keep letting me know what you think, I love your feedback!


	10. Chapter 10

It was completely dark outside when Ronnie and Brian finally pulled up to the large farmhouse that Brian had rented from a friend. This is where they would all be living together harmoniously (hopefully) for the next four months. It had been Brian's belief that Ronnie needed somewhere safe and isolated to rest and that the band needed somewhere quiet where they could concentrate on finishing the recording of their album.  
  
As Ronnie shut the passenger door of the van and gazed up at the two story silhouette, the sound echoed loudly into the blackness. It was so _quiet_ here. Noticing her surprise, Brian pointed upwards with a grin, and Ronnie saw an endless black highway of stars.  
  
"It's beautiful," Ronnie breathed, genuinely impressed, as they carried their bags up the front steps, and Brian fished a set of keys out of his pocket.  
  
Brian nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow I'll show you the barn out back, which has been converted into a _fully functioning recording studio_."  
  
Ronnie couldn't help but smile at the excitement in his voice, but her smile disappeared immediately when she heard a rustle in the bushes. Jumping slightly, she dropped one of her bags and grabbed Brian's arm.  
  
"I'm sure it's nothing," Brian promised, as he opened the door and gently pushed her inside. "Likely just a small animal settling in for the night." Ronnie knew he was probably right, but she couldn't help but notice the way that Brian moved much faster as he brought everything into the gleaming wood paneled hallway and securely locked the door behind them. Damn Steve for making them both so afraid.  
  
Promising her a grand tour first thing in the morning, Brian showed Ronnie up the staircase to her room. When she realized she had been given the master bedroom with adjoining bathroom, she quickly protested.  
  
"Believe me," Brian said with a chuckle. "You don't want to share a bathroom with four guys. It's all yours."  
  
As soon as Ronnie had finished thanking him, and he had given her a hug goodnight, Brian made his way back downstairs, and directly to the phone that he knew was in the living room. Dropping into an arm chair, he picked up the receiver and dialed a very familiar number.  
  
"It's about time," Freddie's voice muttered on the other line.  
  
"Oh, so glad you're both safe, hope you had a nice trip, Brian!" Brian mocked in a high voice, before saying normally, "Why thanks, Fred, it was a smooth ride."  
  
"I trust no one followed you?" Freddie asked grimly, though Brian could hear the faintest hint of a smile in his voice.  
  
"Not that I could see," Brian replied. "Barely another car on the road, actually." He paused for a moment, then asked, "How's John?"  
  
There was a slight rustle as the receiver was torn from Freddie's hand, and Roger's panicked voice came over the line. "He won't eat anything, Brian!"  
  
Brian sighed. "That's to be expected. Is he staying hydrated, at least?"  
  
There was a muffled thud, before Freddie's voice returned. "The only water he has consumed has likely been whatever he showered in earlier."  
  
"Or the inhalation of his own tears!" Roger's voice shouted in the background.  
  
"Sshh!" Freddie hissed, before saying to Brian, "Roger tried to give him vodka, if that counts."  
  
"Get him a tall glass of water," Brian instructed. "And make sure he drinks it slowly. We can't have him getting dehydrated. Has he left Roger's bedroom?"  
  
"We're trying, dear," Freddie said sadly. "Nothing is working. Not dinner, or a movie, or a good ole' rousing game of Scrabble."  
  
"And chatting is out of the question because he's a terrible conversationalist right now," Roger's voice whispered into the phone.  
  
"How about a show?" Brian suggested. "Perhaps it will help to try to get him out of the flat. I hear there's a new one that just opened on Kings Road that's quite good - The Rocky Horror Picture Show?"  
  
"As much as I adore that idea," Freddie said. "I don't think a show that revolves completely around sexuality is a good idea for our Deaky right now."  
  
"Well, just let him rest for now," Brian recommended. "Keep him comfortable. And join us as soon as you can."  
  
"Perhaps we could take Brian's advice from earlier and get him interested in music again?" Roger's voice suggested hopefully in the background. "I bet he'd get a killer song out of this experience...whatever it is that happened."  
  
Brian shook his head, though he knew no one could see him doing so. "Just be sure to warn John that Ronnie is here before you arrive. I don't want him to get a nasty shock."  
  
"Oh don't worry, we will dear," Freddie promised, and Brian hung up, thoroughly exhausted.  
  
\---  
  
Three days later, halfway through the long drive to the farmhouse, Freddie's mouth dropped open.  
  
He had been sitting comfortably in the passenger seat of Roger's car, ruminating about all sorts of important topics: cats, spare ribs, Louis Roederer Cristal champagne on a hot summer's night, what in the actual hell happened four nights ago between his two friends...  
  
" _Shit_ ," he murmured, as he remembered Brian's warning.  
  
"Hmm?" Roger asked, looking over from the driver's seat.  
  
Freddie glanced at the back seat, where John was sitting, head resting against the seat, gazing listlessly out the window. Freddie felt a slight pang as he realized John wasn't actively looking at anything. It was dark out, and there was nothing to pay attention to, there weren't even any streetlamps this far out in nowhere land...  
  
If Freddie could have wished for anything at that moment, he would have wished he could pluck John out of his own mind, to give him just a few minutes of relief from his dark thoughts.  
  
He was sure John wasn't paying attention to what was happening in the front of the car, so Freddie leaned over to Roger and hissed in his ear, "We didn't tell John that Ronnie will be there, did we?"  
  
Roger's eyes widened. " _Shit_ ," he agreed.  
  
Freddie sat back and took another look at John. This news was going to hurt his friend, but there was no way around it...  
  
"Well, go on!" Roger said encouragingly.  
  
"What?" Freddie exclaimed in a whisper. "Why me?"  
  
"Because you're better with words," Roger whispered back.  
  
Freddie rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and said in a loud voice, "I wonder what Brian and Ronnie have been up to these past three days at the farmhouse?"  
  
Freddie knew his sneaky tactic had worked when he sensed John leaning forward. "Ronnie is going to be there?"  
  
Freddie looked back at John, and felt another pang at the shocked look on his face. "Yes, darling," he replied, as if it were obvious.  
  
"When were you going to tell me?" John asked, clearly pained.  
  
Freddie tried to shrug off the rotten feeling that was slowly taking over all other feelings. "I'm sorry, dear, we sort of...forgot."  
  
John leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, with one hand shielding his eyes.  
  
"But I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about tonight, Deaky," Roger said quickly. "Pregnant ladies go to bed early, right Freddie?"  
  
"While I'm flattered you think I'm an authority on pregnant women, Roger," Freddie said with a slight smile. "I believe that title goes to Brian."  
  
Looking back at John once more, he reached back and patted his knee. "But yes, I'm sure she'll be asleep."  
  
\---  
  
By the time the three musicians arrived at the farmhouse, it was quite late and Roger and Freddie had been quite correct - Ronnie was sleeping. But by mid-morning the next day, she was very much awake and looking forward to finally speaking with John.  
  
She knew the thoughtful thing to do would be to wait until a decent hour, and so she paced the rooms downstairs, combed her hair at least four times, and tried to read a book. But she couldn't concentrate on anything and around noon, she finally made her way up the stairs and with a trembling hand, knocked on the door that Brian told her would be John's.  
  
When Freddie answered, Ronnie wasn't entirely surprised.  
  
"Can I talk to him?" she asked, wringing her hands together nervously.  
  
Freddie looked at a point in the room that she couldn't see, and she knew he was seeking John's permission. When he turned back to her with an apologetic expression, she turned to walk away.  
  
"Ronnie, dear," Freddie said as he closed the door and stepped into the hallway. "He just needs a bit more time."  
  
"It's been a week, Freddie," Ronnie said desperately. "I'm running _out_ of time. The longer he things that what I said is true, the harder it will be to convince him otherwise."  
  
Freddie furrowed his brow in confusion and Ronnie remembered that he, Roger, and Brian still likely knew nothing about that night.  
  
"And the fact that he _still_ won't talk to me..." Ronnie trailed off.  
  
Freddie reached out and grasped her shoulders when he saw her lower lip begin to tremble. "Let me work on him, darling," he said gently. "I'll see what I can do."  
  
Ronnie nodded gratefully and feeling quite dejected, made her way back downstairs to the book she had no interest in reading.  
  
\---  
  
"For Christ's sake!" Freddie exclaimed in disgust, as he tried to pry apart the tight knot of the bandage around John's abdomen.  
  
He was in the bathroom with John, trying to take off the bandage that they had all forgotten about (or rather, that he and Roger had forgotten and John likely didn't care about). When they realized that it was day five, and that it really should have been changed by now, they had immediately spirited John away to the bathroom, sat him on the closed toilet seat, and pulled his shirt over his head, like a small child.  
  
Roger rushed into the bathroom, breathless. "No scissors," he reported.  
  
"You're joking!" Freddie said in disbelief, from his position on the floor, kneeling before John. "A giant house like this has no scissors?"  
  
"I looked _everywhere_ ," Roger insisted.  
  
Freddie tugged on the knot for a few more moments, before giving up. "Damn it straight to hell!" he grumbled. While Roger was on his quest for scissors, Freddie had tried to pull the bandage up John's torso, with the intent of pulling it over his head, but the pain in John's ribs had been too intense. And now, with no scissors to aid them, Freddie realized that they would likely need to go pull Brian out of the barn studio, but then they would surely get a lecture on how this should have been done days ago.  
  
Then he remembered his promise earlier to Ronnie. He could ask her to come in and help them out of this dreadful mess. At the same time, she would get her opportunity to speak with John. Two birds with one stone. It was perfection, if he did say so himself.  
  
However, if he asked John's permission, the answer would surely be no, so he had to act fast.  
  
"Forgive me for this, darling," Freddie said quickly to John, before turning to Roger and saying, "Will you get Ronnie?"  
  
"No!" John said immediately, and the panic in his voice stopped Roger from opening the bathroom door. "Please!"  
  
"Darling, Ronnie is the only one with hands small enough to undo this monstrosity," Freddie said firmly, pulling at the knot once more.  
  
John grasped Freddie's wrists, and Freddie was momentarily stunned by the fierce expression in John's eyes. It was the most animated he had seen him all week.   
  
"Freddie, I am _begging_ you," he said thickly.  
  
Freddie was caught between wanting to relieve John's anxiety - which would involve him giving in, like he had been doing all week - and wanting to grant Ronnie's wish - which would involve him causing John a considerable amount of misery.   
  
"Give me three good reasons why you don't want to see Ronnie, and then I'll decide," Freddie said slowly.  
  
John released Freddie's wrists and looked down at his hands. "I don't want her to see me like this."  
  
"There's one reason," Freddie said. "Go on."  
  
"I..." John swallowed hard. "I can't bear to be physically close to her right now."  
  
"What do you mean, dear?" Freddie asked carefully.  
  
"If she were to touch me, I don't think I...I don't think I could..." John let out a frustrated sigh, and Freddie knew he was having trouble turning his feelings into words, which was understandable, considering how tangled those feelings appeared to be.  
  
"If she were to be near you, it would cause you emotional distress?" Freddie guessed, and John nodded.  
  
"And the third reason?" Freddie gently coaxed.  
  
"She said she didn't want to see me ever again," John's voice had dropped to a whisper and Freddie realized this was the closest that John had come to talking about what had happened that night.  
  
"She's been trying to see you constantly," Freddie reminded him, hoping John would tell them more.  
  
But John had dropped his gaze once more to the floor and Freddie knew he wouldn't get any more information out of him. He thought about what Brian had said a few days ago, about enabling John, and Freddie realized that perhaps Brian was right. Perhaps John just needed a good shove out of his comfort zone. A bit of tough love.   
  
"Those are all good reasons, darling," Freddie admitted, and John looked up at him hopefully. It was at that point that Freddie almost backed down from his fiendish plan. How nice it was to see John look so relieved and he would do anything to spare his younger friend pain but...  
  
They couldn't carry on like this for the next four months, and John needed to begin to heal. Freddie wasn't sure if causing him emotional discomfort was the way to go but he had to try.  
  
"But not good enough," Freddie said, internally wincing at his rough words, and nodded at Roger, who opened the door and yelled down the hallway, " _Ronnie_!"  
  
" _Freddie_ ," John whispered and Freddie tried to ignore the betrayal that was evident in John's voice.  
  
"The bandage needs to come off, dear," Freddie said, taking one of John's hands and giving it an encouraging squeeze. "I won't have you dying of some pesky infection." And with that, he stood up and left John alone.  
  
\---  
  
It didn't take long for Ronnie to arrive. "Yes?" she said as she appeared in the bathroom doorway , and upon seeing a shirtless John, she let out a surprised "oh" and turned to go.  
  
"Don't worry, Ronnie," Roger assured her as he caught her arm, and gently pushed her into the bathroom. "He's wearing pants."  
  
"Darling, we need you to try to undo this voodoo knot that the silly emergency department nurse created," Freddie explained in a low voice.  
  
"Scissors?" Ronnie suggested in a small voice, as she noticed how terribly uncomfortable John looked.  
  
"Apparently there's a rumor going around that there are no scissors in this house," Freddie said, raising his eyebrows at Roger.  
  
"It's true," Roger shot back.  
  
Taking a breath, Ronnie stepped into the bathroom. The last time she had seen John had been on that awful night, and he had been bleeding terribly, and he had been so clearly upset, and in so much pain, and he had quoted his song to her - the song that he had worked so hard on, and which was meant to be so hopeful, but John had turned it's message upside down so that it was an arrow into her heart and...  
  
"Darling?" Freddie said softly, touching her shoulder, and Ronnie snapped out of her trance.  
  
Ronnie slowly dropped to her knees in front of John, who was still seated on the toilet, his head bowed. His hands were clasped on his lap and she tentatively reached out to him. It was as if he were trying to make himself smaller, trying to disappear into himself, but if his arms remained that tight against his body, she wouldn't be able to access the bandage...  
  
 _Get a grip, Ronnie_ , she thought to herself, and before she could change her mind, she grasped John's wrists and pulled them apart, forcing him to unlace his fingers. He jumped at her touch and Ronnie forced away any hurt feelings, because there wasn't time for that right now. She lifted his elbows and found the knot.  
  
Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she dug her fingernails into the knot, trying in vain to unloop any part of the twisted fabric. Even her small pinky could not gain entry between the folds, and suddenly having an idea, she unhooked one of her silver hoop earrings, stuck the pointy end into the knot, and began to gently work one of the folds up.  
  
It was at that moment she noticed how rigid John's posture was, and looking up, she saw he was looking at the ceiling and he was holding his breath.  
  
"Breathe," she instructed him gently, and felt his chest rise as she continued to work on the bandage.  
  
 _There!_ she thought triumphantly as the knot finally began to unravel. She clasped her earring back on, and began to unwind the bandage, eventually taking the entire dressing off and exposing John's ribs.  
  
Ronnie dropped the bandage in shock as she stared at the cuts and bruises lining John's chest and stomach, but worst of all was the ugly purple-black color of his ribs. No one had actually told her the full extent of his injuries, and she turned to Freddie and Roger, still in the doorway, watching with rapt attention.  
  
"Are they broken?" she mouthed, and they nodded sadly.  
  
There was an ugly red gash underneath John's ribs, and Ronnie guessed that was the reason for the bandage.   
  
"The nurse needed to bandage his entire rib cage for this one wound?" Ronnie asked incredulously. "She could have constricted his ribs further and made it harder for him to breathe."  
  
"Villainy," Freddie agreed.  
  
"Thank goodness you're here, Ronnie...right Deaky?" Roger added, and was rewarded for his efforts with a frown from John.  
  
Rising slightly, Ronnie turned on the bathroom faucet, and reached for a washcloth. After ensuring that the water was warm, she soaked the cloth, squeezed the excess water from it, and placed it against John's open wound. He let out a hiss of pain and leaned over, trying to deny her access to his stomach.  
  
Ronnie firmly put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into an upright position. She held the washcloth to his wound with her right hand and held him upright by placing her other hand on his bare back. She heard him let out a muffled cry of pain as he tried to move away from her.  
  
She thought to herself that she couldn't be causing him that much physical pain - yes, it was a deep gash but it should really only be a sting he was feeling - but when she looked up at his face, she could tell that his distress was almost entirely emotional. He didn't want to be near her, and she was very close to him at that moment.  
  
The realization that John was uncomfortable made her work faster, for his sake, and now that her nursing duties were almost finished, she felt her own emotions flooding back. She tossed the washcloth into the sink, wiped her hands on her jeans, placed a giant band-aid over the wound, and pulled her hands away.  
  
"Thank you," John whispered, not looking up, and Ronnie was amazed that he was still making an effort to be polite. But that had always been Deaky - endlessly polite.  
  
Ronnie, watching John's face, observed his terrible black eye, the cheek laceration, all of the things that the blood had hidden on that night. Not realizing what she was doing, she reached her hand out, stretching her fingers towards his face, feeling like she needed to comfort him in some way.  
  
John's head remained bowed, but he lifted his eyes, so that he was gazing up at her from under his eyebrows. The effect was so unnerving - and so _frightening_ \- that she pulled her hand away immediately.  
  
And then she noticed how deeply the sutures were digging into his cheek and horrified, she reached out once more, laying her fingers on his cheek and running her thumb down the jagged line.  
  
Still in the doorway, Freddie and Roger watched in fascination as John closed his eyes and began to lean into her touch, his cheek resting against the palm of her hand. Roger was clutching Freddie's hand tightly in both of his, and they both let out sighs of disappointment when John remembered where he was, and who he was with, and quickly turned his head away.  
  
"John, I - " she began, but stopped when she saw him shake his head slowly.  
  
What did that mean? Ronnie almost lost her nerve. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She realized she needed him to look at her when she said what she had to say. She had to make sure he understood how sincerely sorry she was.  
  
Ronnie reached out and took John's hands, and was dismayed when he drew in a breath and tried to pull away. Ronnie tightened her hold and that's when she realized that he was shaking.  
  
"Please don't," John whispered, and those two words were a punch in Ronnie's gut.  
  
Stunned, Ronnie dropped his hands. "John, I need to tell you..." She paused, finding she could not go on, not when John was rejecting her so. She was losing her confidence and if she couldn't convince herself, how could she ever convince John that what she had to say was true?  
  
John finally looked up at her, not bothering to hide his heartbroken expression, and Ronnie found herself leaning away from him, being forced back against the wall by the sheer force of his look.  
  
"Tell me what?" John asked quietly.  
  
Ronnie had rehearsed this speech in her mind a thousand times but, now, actually face to face with John and all his misery, she couldn't force the words out. Somehow, she felt that whatever she had to say wouldn't be enough to erase all of the suffering she was witnessing.  
  
But she finally had his full attention, she had to say something, _anything_.   
  
"I'm sorry," she finally whispered, and she immediately wished she could take the words back. They sounded so empty, so meaningless.  
  
John threw a wrathful gaze towards the doorway - at Freddie and Roger - before turning back to her.  
  
"So am I," John said darkly, and it was so unlike him, that Ronnie brought her hands to her heart in shock, as if she could shield herself from what she experiencing. Who was this? Where was Deaky? Had she really caused this incredible change? She watched as the anger melted off his face into a look of complete despair.  
  
"So am I," he said again, softer this time, his top teeth coming down firmly on his lower lip, which was clearly trembling.  
  
Ronnie couldn't bear to see him like this. Finally getting herself together, she leaned forward once more and opened her mouth to fully explain and -   
  
"I think it's time..." John said in a shaky voice. "I think it's time that you left."  
  
"But John, I - "  
  
"Please," John pleaded. "Leave me."  
  
"John, _please_ \- "  
  
"Ronnie, _go._ "  
  
Ronnie grabbed the bandages from the floor and stood, feeling furious at herself for not using her time wisely enough, for not being able to relieve his pain, for letting all of this happen in the first place. And very suddenly, she was furious with John, too, for making her feel so unwelcome, so uncomfortable, for stealing her ability to speak her mind when she had so many important things to say to him, for sending her away just like she had sent him away, for letting himself fall apart like this for a woman who was clearly not worth it...for her.  
  
"I hope you _get well soon_ , John," she said bitterly, throwing the bandages onto the floor at his feet, and turning to leave. She realized then how very harsh she had sounded.  
  
 _That's it Ronnie_ , she thought. _Hurt him a little more, why don't you?_  
  
John had stared after her, stunned, but by the time regret had made her turn around in the doorway, John's face had dropped into his hands, and she knew everything was ruined, forever, and turning, she stormed down the hall.  
  
Freddie and Roger stared at each other.   
  
"I'm going to need a stiff drink after watching that," Freddie muttered, before Roger ran after her.  
  
\---  
  
Brian slowly climbed up the stairs, humming the newest song he had written under his breath. He called was calling it Stormtroopers in Stilettos as a working title, which he was sure would delight Freddie, and he couldn't wait to introduce it to the band, and...  
  
He stopped at the top of the stairs as a very upset Ronnie charged past him, Roger on her heels. Looking in the opposite direction, he saw Freddie leaning in the doorway of their shared bathroom, running a hand down his face.  
  
Brian's first thought was that he should walk down the stairs and return to the barn studio, which would most certainly be free of any kind of conflict. But he couldn't do that without making sure that this situation was under control, so he decided to follow Roger and Ronnie first.  
  
He stayed a few feet away, leaning against the wall, as Roger intercepted Ronnie at the window at the end of the hall.  
  
"Ronnie, I'm sure he didn't mean to come off like that..." Roger was saying gently, but Ronnie was shaking her head furiously.  
  
"He barely gave me a chance to explain, Rog!" she exclaimed, bringing her shaking hands to her throat, as if she were choking.  
  
"Well, you see, Deaky is sort of like an egg," Roger said reasonably.  
  
Momentarily surprised out of her outburst, Ronnie raised an eyebrow. "Is this because Brian refused to make you an egg for breakfast?"  
  
Brian, still in the background, smirked.  
  
"No," Roger said defensively, before sighing and saying, "Well, perhaps, but hear me out. Imagine that Deaky is a fragile egg and a week ago, someone dropped him and cracked him."  
  
Alarmed, Brian took a step forward as he saw Ronnie's face fall. Roger was _not_ helping the situation.  
  
"And when you confronted Deaky the egg today and physically touched him," Roger continued, clearly trying very hard to make sense, "his broken shell cracked even more, and his yolk almost leaked out...the yolk being his heart."  
  
Brian had been nodding, following along, but at this, he raised his eyebrows.  
  
" _Oh my God_ , Roger," Ronnie whispered in horror, and finally noticing Brian, turned to him imploringly.  
  
Roger turned around and saw Brian's skeptical face. "It's a _metaphor_ , Brian!"   
  
Ronnie reached out and put a hand on Roger's shoulder. "I appreciate that, Roger, I really do," she said, trying to be kind although she was really seething inside, "but it's late and I think I'm going to go to bed." Bidding them both goodnight, she walked the few steps to her room and disappeared, shutting the door firmly behind her.  
  
Brian, already walking towards the bathroom, turned and pointed at Roger. "Tomorrow, I'm making you an egg for breakfast."  
  
\---  
  
After Roger and Ronnie had left, Freddie had sat at the edge of the bathtub, right next to his friend, and hung his head in guilt.  
  
"Why Freddie?" John asked as he carefully pulled his shirt back on.  
  
"That was supposed to be cleansing," Freddie said uncertainly. "Don't you feel better?"  
  
"That was supposed to make me feel better?"  
  
"She said she was sorry," Freddie pointed out hopefully.  
  
"She's not," John said flatly.  
  
"Why do you say that, dear?"  
  
"She was forced in here to help m-me, so what else could she say?" John's voice was painfully sad.  
  
Freddie sighed, realizing he wasn't getting anywhere. "I'm sorry, darling. Truly. For all of that."  
  
John stood up, wincing in pain, and Freddie reached out suddenly.  
  
"Come downstairs tomorrow," he said. "Bring your guitar and play with us. I bet that will make you feel better."  
  
John looked at him doubtfully.  
  
"At least think about it?"  
  
John nodded. "I'll think about it."  
  
Looking up at that moment, Freddie noticed Brian leaning in the doorway with a smile on his face, and he realized that he had just fully endorsed Brian's original plan.  
  
\---  
  
Fighting back angry tears, Ronnie grabbed a duffle bag from under her bed and began to jam clothes into it. _An egg, my arse_ , she thought bitterly, though the more she thought about it, the more Roger's metaphor made sense.  
  
But she didn't want it to make sense because she didn't want to feel heartbroken for John all over again. She wanted to feel angry and betrayed and irrational. She didn't know what good that would do her but she didn't care either.  
  
Zipping the bag, she viciously threw it onto the floor. She was leaving first thing in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone!! :)


	11. Chapter 11

At the crack of dawn the next morning, Ronnie crept slowly down the staircase, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and stopped suddenly at the bottom of the stairs when she heard sound.   
  
Sitting quickly on the bottom step, she hid behind the banister and peeked through the railing. She wasn't sure who was up this early, but her pregnancy hormones instantly swirled about in a rush of madness, and she cursed whoever it was for not being in bed because they could potentially ruin her plan.  
  
But whoever it was, they were only playing the piano two rooms away, and sneaking into the kitchen, Ronnie grabbed a jar of pickles, stuffed it in her bag, and made her way back out into the hall.  
  
Taping her note explaining where she was going and why to the banister, she froze when she heard Freddie's beautiful singing voice drifting towards her from the other room.  
  
_I lie in wait with open eyes_  
 _I carry on through stormy skies  
_  
Ronnie grasped the banister. Was this a new song for the new album? She had never heard it before and it was _beautiful._

 _I follow every course; my kingdom for a horse_  
 _But each time I grow old_  
  
She quickly shook her head. There was no time. She had to go now.   
  
_Serpent of the Nile, relieve me for a while_  
 _And cast me from your spell, and let me go_  
  
Opening the front door, she threw one last longing glance up the stairway. Poor Deaky...  
  
...but also, poor Ronnie, she thought. She had tried everything to make things right and yet here she was, with everything still wrong.  
  
 _Wars will never cease_  
 _Is there time enough for peace?_  
 _The lily of the valley doesn't know_  
  
Ronnie could relate. She didn't know anything anymore. Locking and closing the door behind her, she hurried down the porch steps and into the cold morning air.  
  
\---  
  
About a half an hour down the road, Ronnie began to wonder if running away was such a good idea, after all.   
  
She had stopped in the middle of the dusty road for the fourth time, wrestling with her decision to leave. She was tired, and not as fit as she used to be, thanks to her growing belly, and she had way too much time to think. Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she glanced at the cloudy sky, hoping there wasn't rain in the forecast.  
  
The first time Ronnie stopped had been five minutes down the road. Thoughts of John had made her turn back to gaze at the farmhouse as she thought of the way he had said _But Ronnie, tonight_...when she had been trying to get him to leave her at the venue, as if that night was supposed to have been something other than ordinary, as if he had had such high hopes for that one evening...but she forced herself to turn around and keep walking.  
  
Thoughts of the band and how worried they would be caused her to stop for a second time about fifteen minutes down the road, and she stopped for the third time twenty-five minutes from the farmhouse and with her heart suddenly in her throat, began to run back in the direction she had come as she thought of Steve, desperately wishing she had thought to grab a knife from the kitchen. The jar of pickles she had brought instead certainly wouldn't save her.  
  
Breathless, Ronnie halted once more, realizing she was being paranoid, and continued her journey to the train station she would never find, and now here she stood, looking down the never-ending road that continued to stretch ahead. She felt like she was stranded in a desert of trees and grass, not making any progress. And something inside was telling her to turn back, and she was feeling like she really didn't want to do this after all.  
  
 _Stupid pregnancy brain indecision_ , she thought, before looking up at the sky. _What should I do? I could really use a sign._  
  
Right on cue, it began to rain. That was most definitely a sign. Sighing, Ronnie turned and began the long walk back to the farmhouse.  
  
 _And besides_ , she scolded herself. _Running away? Really Ronnie? What are you, twelve years old?_   
  
\---  
  
By the time Ronnie reached the farmhouse, the rain was a continuous, cold downpour. Tired, wet, and discouraged, she dragged herself up the porch steps and turned the door handle, with the intent of grabbing her runaway note and going to her room. No one would ever need to know this had happened.  
  
But the door wouldn't budge, and Ronnie remembered she had been considerate enough to lock it behind her when she left earlier that morning. Leaning her head against the door frame, she closed her eyes. If she hadn't been pregnant, she would have dashed back out into the rain and tried to climb through a window. But she could barely climb out of a bathtub and so, raising her arm, she knocked loudly on the door, and waited to be rescued.  
  
This was going to be so embarrassing, she thought.  
  
When Brian answered the door and saw who was standing before him, his mouth dropped open in shock. _"Ronnie?"_  
  
Ronnie folded her arms around herself, shivering. "Good morning, Brian."  
  
Brian, noticing the rain that was coming down in sheets behind her, quickly pulled her inside. Upon seeing her bag, he lifted it from her shoulder and put it on the ground. Grasping her shoulders, his eyes searched hers. "Where were you going?"  
  
"H-home," Ronnie whispered, feeling like a small child.  
  
"You're soaked to the skin," Brian observed in a worried tone, as he carefully peeled off Ronnie's jacket and tossed it out onto the dry porch, along with her wet bag. Turning his head slightly, he yelled, _"Freddie! Roger!"_  
  
Freddie jogged into the hallway energetically, while a very sleepy and disheveled Roger shuffled after him, not at all enthusiastic. Upon seeing Ronnie wet and shivering uncontrollably, they stopped in surprise.  
  
Brian crouched down and began pulling off Ronnie's shoes and socks, which he banished to the porch, as well. "I need a towel and a blanket," he said over his shoulder.  
  
Freddie gave Roger a push towards the stairs. "Towel, darling! Make sure it's a big, fluffy one!" He then disappeared into the living room in search of a warm blanket.  
  
Five minutes later, Ronnie was sitting at the kitchen table, completely nude except for the blanket wrapped around her. Roger was vigorously drying her hair with the towel, and she couldn't help but think that she felt like a dog who had just rolled disobediently into a puddle.  
  
She was then supplied with a hot cup of tea and a large plate of breakfast. Roger, now sitting next to her, looked up at Brian hopefully.  
  
"There you go, Rog," Brian said, putting an hard boiled egg in front of him. "I made you a nice, delicious metaphor for breakfast. You can name it John, if you'd like."  
  
"Thanks, Bri!" Roger exclaimed, too excited about his egg to be snarky in return.  
  
"Now, darling," Freddie said. "You know we all have a burning question to ask you."  
  
Ronnie stopped inhaling her breakfast, and pulled part of the blanket up over her shoulder. "I think you should wear the black leotard for the first show of the next tour. It's sparkly and really catches the light when you move."  
  
Freddie's face lit up as Ronnie appealed to his egotistic side as a means of distraction, but Brian wouldn't let her avoid the subject.  
  
"What made you feel you had to run away from us this morning?" he asked, and guilt washed over Ronnie as she saw how worried he was.  
  
Carefully putting her fork down, Ronnie placed her hands above her mug and let the hot steam drift up into her palms. "You didn't get my note?"  
  
"What note?" Roger asked, mouth full.  
  
"My runaway note."  
  
Brian shook his head.   
  
"Do you really think so darling?" Freddie was asking. "I sparkle when I move?"  
  
Brian shot him a look, while Roger said in a guilty voice, "Was it because I told you Deaky was broken like an egg?"  
  
Pulling the blanket up once again over her shoulders, Ronnie smiled at him kindly. "No Roger. It was because of what happened..." she trailed off.  
  
"...in the bathroom?" Brian finished for her. Freddie had updated him extensively about what had happened the evening before.  
  
Ronnie looked sadly into her cup of tea and they all knew that was exactly why she had run away.  
  
\---  
  
John slowly made his way down the stairs, bass guitar in hand. He had spent all night considering Freddie's offer, and had realized how much he missed playing. Also, the notion of spending another day in his room with only his thoughts for company was unbearable. And so, he had washed and combed his hair, and put on a button down shirt. He had even tucked his shirt into his jeans.  
  
A piece of paper taped to the banister at the bottom of the stairs caught John's attention. Tearing it from the polished wood, he brought the note closer and read it.  
  
 _Brian, Freddie, and Roger,_  
  
 _I've decided to go home this morning. Please don't feel as if you need to follow, and please don't worry. I'm going to take the train and I'll get in touch with Ratty once I've gotten closer so that he can bring me to my flat. I'll be safe, I promise, and I'll call when I get there.  
_  
 _My confrontation with John yesterday made me realize that things aren't going to get better. After everything that's happened, I can't stay in this house with him. We're better off if we don't see each other. Ever.  
_  
 _I'm sorry, and thank you for everything.  
_  
 _Love, Ronnie  
_  
John slowly crushed the note in his fist. Was he that awful that she couldn't even stay in a big house with him, where they could easily avoid each other? Was he still smothering her? What else did he have to do? What else _could_ he do? He felt a lump in his throat and swallowing it, he headed for the kitchen.   
  
\---  
  
"Next time you want to run away, make sure you let us know first," Freddie said to Ronnie with a teasing grin. "So one of us can come with you."  
  
"That defeats the purpose of running away, doesn't it?" Ronnie asked with a small smile.  
  
"There won't be a next time," Brian said, winking at her.  
  
"You need to stay!" Roger insisted. "Because if Deaky doesn't ever recover from his broken heart, you may need to step in as our new bass player."  
  
Sensing a presence in the doorway, Ronnie inhaled sharply when she saw who it was. The other three turned to see what she was looking at.  
  
John was standing in the doorway, holding his guitar, looking crestfallen.  
  
"John," Brian began, but John walked past him.  
  
As Ronnie watched John come closer to her, she thought to herself that she should really pull the blanket up again to cover her bare shoulders. But she sat frozen, astonished by the resolute look that had suddenly appeared on his face.  
  
John took her hand and wrapped her fingers around the neck of the guitar. "You'll need this then, won't you?" he said emotionlessly. A single tear slipped down Ronnie's face, and John turned, leaving the room. A few moments later, they heard him fleeing up the stairs, as fast as he could go with his fractured ribs.  
  
Freddie and Roger shared a panicked look, before lunging out of their chairs and following.  
  
Ronnie slowly lifted John's guitar and hugged it to her chest, while Brian shook his head. And very suddenly, she remembered her runaway note, and springing to her feet, she ran out into the hallway, holding John's guitar in one hand and the blanket closed with the other.  
  
Her note was gone. Looking up the stairs, she prayed that John hadn't been the one to find it.  
  
\---  
  
When John burst back into his room, Roger and Freddie were only seconds behind.  
  
"Deaky!" Roger said desperately, as John began to pace restlessly around the room. "Deaky, I didn't mean it. Please forgive me."  
  
"He's right, darling," Freddie said, hands on his hips. "Brian clearly put something in his egg this morning. You're essential to Queen. We'd be nothing without you. You know that."  
  
John continued his exhausting trip around the room.  
  
Roger looked fretfully at Freddie, who was lost in thought. After a few moments, Freddie reached out a hand and patted Roger on the back. "Don't worry, darling, I think this has to do with something much deeper than your comment."  
  
John came to a standstill and stared at them. "What do you mean?"  
  
Freddie took John's arm and sat him on the bed.  
  
"This has more to do with Ronnie than what Roger said," Freddie said slowly. "Am I right, dear?"  
  
The way in which John looked away told Freddie that he was indeed right.  
  
"Darling," Freddie said gently, sitting next to him on the bed, " _friends_ don't react this strongly after a fight."  
  
This got John's attention, and he looked up.  
  
"Yeah," Roger agreed. "If Freddie told me I was suffocating him and he didn't want to see me ever again, I'd kick his arse."  
  
"You love her, " Freddie said to John with a knowing expression.  
  
"We all love her," John said innocently, but his eyes were filled with tears.  
  
"Yes," Freddie agreed. "But you love her a bit more, don't you?"  
  
John's expression was one of torment. "I don't know," he whispered.  
  
Freddie raised his eyebrows and in a flash, John's face crumpled and hiding his face in his hands, he began to cry.  
  
"Darling," Freddie said soothingly, pulling John into a hug, while being mindful of his injured ribs, and rubbing his back. "It's _all right_."  
  
"I can't," John wept, as he released his fist and let Ronnie's crushed note fall to the floor. "I can't bear it."  
  
Roger picked up the ball of paper, unfolded it, and read it. With a sinking heart, he sat on John's other side, and put his head on John's shoulder, while handing the note to Freddie.  
  
Freddie held John with one arm and held the note in his other hand as he skimmed it. With a sigh, he handed it back to Roger, and patted John on the back.  
  
"We're going to make this better, darling," he promised.  
  
As the rain continued to pound the windowpanes, they let John cry out the heart wrenching sobs he'd been holding in for an entire week. Even when John's breathing finally calmed and all that could be heard were occasional sniffles, they stayed wrapped in a giant group hug.  
  
Eventually, Freddie pulled back, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.  
  
"Now darling," Freddie said, all business, as he wiped away John's remaining tears with the handkerchief. "This is what we're going to do. We're going to splash cold water on your face, force you to eat a slice of cheese on toast, and then we're going to go to the studio and play together."  
  
"Ronnie has my guitar," John whispered miserably.  
  
"I'm sure she's not planning on keeping it," Roger said reasonably.  
  
"Roger's right," Freddie agreed. "Leave the guitar to us. Now, does that sound like a plan, Deaky darling?"  
  
Hesitating for only a moment, John nodded.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie sat at the piano, gazing out the window at the rain. She had taken a hot shower and was feeling a little better, if just a little congested, but the morning's events had left her feeling quite defeated.  
  
Lifting a hand, she tapped out the first few notes of Jingle Bells on the piano. It was all she knew how to play.  
  
"Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh!" Freddie sang dramatically as he entered the room and sat down next to her on the piano bench.  
  
"I think it's much too early for that," Brian said with a smile, sitting on her other side.  
  
The ends of Ronnie's mouth lifted in a faint smile, but it disappeared quickly as she asked, "How is he?"  
  
"He's..." Freddie paused, trying to think of how to be honest while sparing Ronnie's feelings.  
  
"Tell me the truth," Ronnie said quietly.  
  
"He's heartbroken," Freddie admitted, before quickly adding, "But we're not saying that to make you feel bad, darling."  
  
"No," Brian agreed. "But we all can't continue to live like this. Which is why one of you needs to tell us what happened, so we can help."  
  
"And it's sure as hell not going to be Deaky," Freddie observed.  
  
Ronnie sighed. She had been fully expecting this. "All right," she agreed.  
  
"Really?" Freddie asked in surprise, and Ronnie nodded.  
  
"But we'll need to wait until later," Brian pointed out. "Because Roger is at the studio with John and he _will_ have a fit if he's left out of this conversation."  
  
Ronnie nodded once more, thinking that at least she had a bit of time to put her story together in a way that made sense.   
  
"Why don't you come out to the studio with us?" Brian suggested. "We'd love your opinion on some new songs."  
  
"Maybe another time," Ronnie said, thinking how her presence would only distract John. "I'm not feeling very well." And that was the truth.  
  
As Freddie and Brian left her to her own thoughts, she leaned forward, her elbows falling onto the piano keys, and massaged her forehead. She had such a headache.  
  
\---

  
However, although Ronnie had declined Brian's offer and although she was feeling miserably ill, she found herself running through the wet grass with an umbrella a half an hour later. The empty house was eerily quiet, and the rain clouds had made all the rooms dark, and all she could think about was Steve.  
  
Letting herself into the entryway of the barn studio, she folded the umbrella, shook it out, and followed the sound of music to the big room where the boys were rehearsing. She instantly recognized the rollicking chords of Now I'm Here.  
  
She leaned in the doorway and observed the band. The only band member who noticed her was Brian, who looked up and gave her a smile, clearly glad she had changed her mind. She tried not to look at John and failed, her heart sinking as she noticed his red, puffy eyes. She wanted so desperately to help him, but if he wouldn't let her...  
  
John looked up at that moment, and, obviously not expecting to see her, he missed a beat, before his fingers stopped altogether. Realizing part of their rhythm section was missing, the rest of the band stopped, as well.  
  
"Hi Ronnie!" Roger shouted enthusiastically from behind his drum set.  
  
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Ronnie said quickly. "The house was just so quiet and I thought of..." She stopped, not wanting the band to know how paranoid she was becoming.  
  
"Oh, darling," Freddie said reassuringly. "He isn't going to find you here."  
  
Ronnie offered a small smile, though she wasn't entirely convinced, and the band carried on.  
  
"All right," Brian said, referencing a piece of lined notebook paper. "Next song up is Misfire."  
  
"Forget that one," John said quietly.  
  
"Why, dear?" Freddie asked curiously.  
  
"Because it's rubbish," John said bitterly. "We should scrap it."  
  
"John, it's a _great_ song," Brian insisted.  
  
John met Ronnie's eyes at that moment. "I don't want to play it ever again."  
  
Ronnie watched him for a moment, not bothering to hide how much hearing that actually hurt. It was pretty obvious that the reason he no longer wanted the song on the album was because of what had happened between them. Suddenly thinking that feeling fearful in the house might be preferable to feeling John's hot stare and hearing him criticize his own work, she turned to go.  
  
"Where are you going?" she heard Roger yell after her.  
  
"Anywhere else!" Ronnie shouted from the hallway, before she ran back into the rain.  
  
\---  
  
The moment Ronnie had gotten back to the house, she had gone straight to her room, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and curled up in her bed. And that's exactly where Brian and Freddie found her hours later, at ten that evening, when they flipped on the light switch and sought her out to tell her story.  
  
"Darling, you look terrible," Freddie said honestly, as she pulled herself up to a sitting position and leaned against the pillows.  
  
"Ronnie, you don't need to tell us anything tonight," Brian added. "You're obviously not well."  
  
"No," Ronnie said, patting the space on the bed next to her. "Now or never, right?"  
  
Freddie and Brian, still doubtful, sat on Ronnie's bed, and when Roger did not materialize after a few minutes, Freddie jumped up and flinging open the door, yelled into the hall, _"Roger!"_  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Roger called back, appearing with a tray, on which was a big bowl and four glasses of orange juice. He placed the tray on Ronnie's nightstand proudly, and settled himself on the bed.  
  
Brian's mouth fell open as he leaned forward. "Roger, you made _popcorn?"_  
  
"Yes," Roger replied defensively.   
  
"Because nothing goes with a tragic tale quite like salt and melted butter," Brian sighed.  
  
"Cheers to that," Freddie said, taking a glass and holding it up. "I hope you put something strong in this, Rog."  
  
"I didn't," Roger said. "If Ronnie can't drown her woes in alcohol tonight, we shouldn't be able to either."  
  
Brian turned a surprised face to their drummer. "That's very thoughtful, Rog," he said.   
  
"And also we're out of alcohol," Roger admitted.  
  
Brian sighed once more.  
  
Roger suddenly beamed. "Remember the time we made the audience popcorn and orange juice for one of our first gigs?"  
  
Brian smiled and leaned back. "Do I ever."  
  
"A happier tale for another time," Freddie said authoritatively, before turning to Ronnie and handing her a glass. "Right now, we want to hear your story, darling."  
  
Ronnie traced the rim of her glass with a finger. "Where do I even begin," she said darkly.  
  
"Well, what were you and Deaky doing there, to begin with?" Freddie asked.  
  
In spite of everything, Ronnie smiled. "He sort of showed up at my door and asked if I wanted to go to a Zeppelin concert with him."  
  
"He _did?"_ Freddie asked, a smile slowly growing across his face, as Brian grinned and scratched his head.  
  
"He took you and not _me?"_ Roger said in mock disappointment, sticking his hand in the popcorn bowl.  
  
Ronnie blushed, realizing John hadn't told any of them that he had been planning on taking her.  
  
"And then?" Freddie said impatiently.   
  
"Then we went to the show and had an amazing time," Ronnie replied, sipping her orange juice.  
  
 _"And?"_ Roger encouraged her eagerly.  
  
"And then everything went to hell."  
  
"Wait," Freddie said suddenly. "Before we journey to hell with you, we must ask - was this a _date?"_  
  
"I don't know," Ronnie admitted.  
  
"Well, let's look at the evidence," Brian suggested.  
  
"For one, you were alone," Freddie pointed out. "Just the two of you."  
  
"Without me," Roger added.  
  
Ronnie swirled a piece of hair around her finger nervously.  
  
"Did he pay?" Brian asked.  
  
"Yes," Ronnie said, feeling quite ridiculous. She was supposed to be telling them her sob story and they were supposed to be listening sympathetically, not gossiping like a bunch of old hens.  
  
Roger and Freddie leaned over Brian and high-fived.  
  
"And then he kissed you?" Roger asked, practically spilling his orange juice in excitement.  
  
"Well, I kissed _him_ on the cheek," Ronnie said, trying not to smile at the delighted faces in front of her.  
  
"It was a date," Freddie confirmed. "Deaky, that crafty cow! My God, I'm proud of him."  
  
"Well that explains why he was cry-" Roger began, but Freddie quickly talked over him and said loudly, "Crazy secretive that day."

He gave Roger a meaningful look before saying, "Well now that you've gotten us all excited, let us down gently, darling."  
  
"Believe me," Ronnie said sadly. "This won't be gentle."  
  
"Wait," Roger said suddenly. "I should really piss before you go on."  
  
"This isn't a long car ride, Roger," Brian pointed out.  
  
"I won't be long," Roger insisted, jumping up. He turned at the door and said, "Don't start without me!" before dashing down the hall.  
  
\---  
  
Roger stepped into the bathroom and frowned at his reflection in the mirror - something he was not accustomed to doing, since he often shot himself a dashing smile every time he caught his reflection, whether it be a mirror, a window, or a puddle. But he had an idea and he needed to hash it out in silence.  
  
What if there was a way to heal Deaky the broken egg tonight?  
  
The whole point was to get Deaky to hear Ronnie tell her story, without Ronnie knowing he was there. But Deaky was so wholesome, he would never agree to eavesdrop like that...  
  
...but maybe he would listen in, if he thought no one else knew he was there.  
  
Roger shot himself a winning grin, before leaving the bathroom and stopping outside John's room. He banged loudly on the door three times, before running down the hallway as fast as he could and thinking how he sure as hell hoped this crazy plan would work.   
  
He skidded into Ronnie's room and made sure he only shut the door halfway.  
  
"Did I miss anything?" he asked breathlessly.  
  
"The whole thing, actually," Freddie admitted.  
  
"So many important plot points," Brian added sarcastically.  
  
Roger rolled his eyes, and climbed back onto the bed. "I'm ready now."  
  
\---  
  
John opened his door and peered out into the dark hallway. There was no one there. Stepping out of his room, he looked around curiously, but everything seemed quite devoid of life.  
  
Except for Ronnie's room, he realized, as he saw the light spilling out into the hall, and heard loud voices. He made his way very quietly down the hallway, not quite sure what he was doing. Inside he had a sinking feeling, like they were all having some kind of fun without him, and really, he couldn't blame them. He wasn't much fun lately.  
  
Stopping outside Ronnie's room, John put his ear to the partially open door and heard Freddie say, "All right, darling. Now what happened that night?"  
  
John stepped back swiftly, as if he had received an electrical shock. He knew he shouldn't listen in on this conversation, but he wanted so badly to know what Ronnie was going to say about that night. Hating himself just a little bit for what he was doing, he leaned his right shoulder against the doorway, folded his arms, and staying well out of sight, he waited.  
  
It wasn't like he had anything to lose, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there, slowly but surely :)


	12. Chapter 12

Ronnie took a huge breath and let it out.  
  
"If only I hadn't had to piss after the show," she said, frustrated, almost more to herself than to anyone else. "Or if only we'd drove instead of walked, I could have held it until I got home."  
  
"This is all your bladder's fault," Roger agreed.  
  
"Wishful thinking, dear," Freddie said consolingly to Ronnie. "My guess is your hell story begins in the loo?"  
  
Ronnie twisted her hands nervously. "Steve was in there."  
  
"You're shitting me!" Roger muttered.  
  
"I'm sure she shits you not, dear," Freddie said darkly, before turning back to Ronnie. "No pun intended, darling. What did the dirty cockroach want?"  
  
"He had a gun," Ronnie said, feeling her mouth go dry. She hadn't told _anyone_ this yet.  
  
Brian moved a little closer to her, and she realized then that she was shaking. She had to remind herself that she and John were both safe. She wasn't in that cramped restroom anymore, she was on her bed with Roger, Freddie, and Brian.  
  
"He said he was there to bring me back home with him," Ronnie continued. "And that he wasn't going to let me go until I had delivered the baby and handed it over to him."  
  
"He was going to _kidnap_ you?" Brian exclaimed, furious. "I knew we should have gone to the police!"  
  
Ronnie nodded. "Except there was one thing in his way."  
  
"Deaky!" Roger guessed.  
  
Ronnie felt tears burn her eyes. "Steve told me that when I left the bathroom, I would have two minutes to convince John to leave me at the venue. And if he wasn't gone in two minutes, then he would..." She stopped suddenly.  
  
"Yes, Ronnie?" Brian coaxed gently.  
  
"...he would kill him." A terrible shiver made it's way down Ronnie's spine.  
  
"I hope he was just blowing smoke up your arse," Roger said angrily.  
  
"No," Ronnie whispered. "He showed me the bullets. He was quite serious."  
  
"Ronnie, are you feeling well?" Brian said suddenly, reaching out and laying the back of his hand on her forehead. "You're very hot."  
  
"I'm fine," Ronnie lied. She could practically feel the heat radiating off of her skin and she was quite nauseous.  
  
"So then what?" Roger asked impatiently.  
  
"He left me for a few moments so that I could pull myself together," Ronnie went on.  
  
"How very thoughtful," Brian said scathingly.  
  
"And it was then that I found a pen. I wrote a note asking for help on the back of a receipt, and rolled it in a wad of bills, and shoved it in my pocket. It was my plan to give it to someone, after John was safe, so that I could save myself."  
  
"Very clever, darling," Freddie complimented her.  
  
"Roger, why do you keep looking at the door?" Brian said suddenly, as they waited for Ronnie to go on.  
  
"No reason," Roger said nervously, running a hand through his hair in what he hoped was a casual gesture. "What happened next, Ronnie?"  
  
"I went out to John," Ronnie said, and stopped again. She really didn't want to go any further. This is where things got quite difficult.  
  
The three boys were leaning forward on the bed, waiting expectantly. Ronnie stared past them, out the window, as if she were seeing the events of that night play themselves out on the glass panes.  
  
"I yelled at him," she said softly, eyes wide, not staring at anything in particular. "I yelled at Deaky."  
  
Brian took her hand. "I'm sure you had a good reason."  
  
"It was the only way I could get him to leave," Ronnie whispered, still staring straight ahead.  
  
Roger snuck a worried glance at the partially open door.  
  
"Roger," Brian said sternly. "You'd think Steve was out there in the hall, the way you keep looking over there."  
  
Freddie leaned over and peered out into the darkness. "Did you see a ghost, darling?"  
  
Out in the hall, John pressed himself against the wall to stay out of sight.  
  
Roger snorted. "Ghosts. No such thing." He turned to Brian uncertainty. "Right, Bri?"  
  
"Well do you want us to close the door, dear?" Freddie asked.  
  
"No," Roger said quickly. "No, keep it open. I'm enjoying the breeze."  
  
No one bothered to pointed out that there was no breeze.  
  
"We're sorry, Ronnie," Brian said apologetically. "Please, go on."  
  
Ronnie had snapped out of her trance, and felt the words come easier now, but only because she felt so guilty telling the band how she had single-handedly crushed their bassist, and she felt like she had to atone.  
  
"I said everything I could to get him to leave," she said earnestly. "I tried to be gentle about it, I tried to tell him that I had something I had to take care of, that he had to return to my flat without me, that I'd call him when I could. No matter what I said, he wouldn't leave."  
  
"I don't blame him," Freddie said. "We wouldn't have left you either, darling."  
  
"I know," Ronnie said. "But I had to get him to go, because I was running out of time. So I resorted to begging him to leave and that didn't work either. He knew something was wrong. Which was a serious problem, because Steve had said if I got upset, or blew his cover, he'd kill John immediately."  
  
"Steve was there the entire time?" Brian asked, as Roger brought handfuls of popcorn to his mouth, watching Ronnie with rapt attention, as if she were a very suspenseful film.  
  
"He was in the background, pointing the gun at John," Ronnie confirmed, and heard Brian let out an angry hiss beside her.  
  
"Jesus," Freddie muttered.  
  
"I ran out of time," Ronnie said quietly, tracing invisible circles on the bedspread. "I heard the warning click from the gun and...and I was just _so_ afraid for John's life...that I told him terrible things to get him to leave."  
  
A heavy silence descended upon the room for a few moments, before it was broken by the sound of Roger munching on popcorn kernels.  
  
"It worked," Ronnie said softly. "He left."  
  
The three boys exchanged a glance. She saw in their eyes how badly they wanted to ask her what she had said to make John leave. Or rather, Brian and Freddie wanted to ask - Roger's mouth was too full to say anything.  
  
"Ronnie, what did you say to him?" Brian asked finally, putting a comforting hand on her back.  
  
"We're not trying to guilt you, darling," Freddie added. "We just need to understand why Deaky feels the way he does."  
  
Roger felt his eyes sliding once more towards the door, but forced himself to stare at Ronnie instead.  
  
Ronnie felt a tear roll down her face. "I told him that he was suffocating me. That it was unbearable. That the entire night had meant nothing to me, that I had only used him to get in to see the band. I asked him how could he ever think that we could...that we could be..."  
  
"More than friends?" Freddie suggested.  
  
Ronnie hadn't been able to fully articulate that thought in front of John on that night. She hadn't even known at the time that was what she had been trying to say. She nodded, grateful that Freddie had understood. "And I told him I never wanted to see him again."  
  
"Oh darling," Freddie said sadly.  
  
"But I thought perhaps I could get my note to him before he left," Ronnie continued in a rush. "So I told him I wanted to pay him back for my ticket. But he wouldn't take the money. He said he didn't want me to waste my money on something that meant nothing to me."  
  
In a sudden gesture of sympathy, Roger held out the popcorn bowl to her, and with a sad smile, she took a handful, although she feared she wouldn't be able to keep it down.  
  
Ronnie then quickly told the rest of the tale - how she had gotten the money to Ratty, how he had called the police, how she had come across John being savagely beaten by Steve's friends, and how she had tried to buy time by antagonizing Steve.  
  
"Is that when you threatened to throw yourself down the stairs?" Brian asked suddenly.  
  
"I only said it to make him angry," Ronnie explained.  
  
"John thought you were serious," Brian said quietly.  
  
Ronnie sighed and rubbed her temples.  
  
"You look awful, darling," Freddie said.  
  
"I'm not feeling very well," Ronnie admitted, trying to ignore the way the salt from the popcorn was sticking in her throat and the way the butter was swirling dangerously in the pit of her stomach.  
  
"So what were you going to say to Deaky yesterday?" Roger asked.  
  
Ronnie burst into tears at that moment, to her complete dismay. She shouldn't have been surprised, it didn't take much to get her going lately.  
  
Freddie reached forward and took her hands. "You don't need to tell us that, Ronnie dear," he said kindly.  
  
"Right," Brian agreed, putting an arm around her. "That's between you two. We can always try to arrange a meeting tomorrow, and you can tell him then."  
  
"Thank you," Ronnie said miserably. "But I'm not putting myself through that again." And so, between her sniffles and hiccups, she told them, "I was going to tell him how sorry I was, how I didn't mean anything that I said, h-how I had just said it to save his life. I was going to tell him that night really meant everything to me."  
  
As the boys processed her words, Ronnie felt bile rising up her throat and she bolted off the bed, running for the adjoining bathroom, an arm around her swollen belly. The door shut with a quick slam.  
  
Brian and Roger looked at each other, while Freddie covered his eyes with his hand. "For Fuck's sake," they heard him mutter. "That poor darling."  
  
"I'm not surprised she's not feeling well," Brian said, folding his arms and leaning against the headboard. "Not after being out in the cold rain this morning."  
  
"Maybe popcorn wasn't a good idea for her," Freddie said, lifting his head.  
  
"Popcorn is never a bad idea," Roger retorted.  
  
"And she has completely strained her mind and her body this past week," Brian continued. "I think she made herself absolutely ill over Deaky."  
  
Roger shifted uncomfortably, and Freddie glanced at him with a strange look.  
  
After five minutes passed and Ronnie still had not emerged from the bathroom, Brian got up and tapped lightly on the door. "Ronnie? Can I come in?" There must have been a positive response that only he could hear, because he quickly disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Roger jumped off the bed, ran to the door, and stuck his hand out into the hall, as if feeling for something. Freddie's mouth dropped open when he pulled John into the bedroom.  
  
Roger was looking quite proud, while John was pale, his face stricken with a look of horror.  
  
"Darling," Freddie said gently, getting up from the bed and putting a hand on John's shoulder. "How much of that did you hear?"  
  
"Every word," John whispered.  
  
Freddie glanced at Roger.  
  
"I'm sorry," John said quickly. "I...I didn't mean to listen in. Someone knocked on my door, and there was no one there, so I followed the light and the sound here, and I couldn't help but hear..." He dropped his head guiltily.  
  
"This is your doing, isn't it?" Freddie asked Roger in a low voice.  
  
"Say it, Freddie," Roger said, looking quite pleased with himself.  
  
"Say what, darling?"  
  
"Say it!" Roger insisted. "I'm a crafty cow, too. My plan worked."  
  
"More like a conniving, villainous cow!" Freddie exclaimed. "This was your _plan_?"  
  
Roger's face fell, and Freddie felt a stab of regret. But quite quickly, Roger's dejected expression was replaced with one of indignation.  
  
"Well, _your_ plan didn't work, did it?" Roger shouted. "You got the two of them in the bathroom together and then Deaky kicked her out!"  
  
John lifted his head, looking absolutely miserable.  
  
"All I am saying, _darling_ , is that Deaky could have heard something he wasn't meant to hear," Freddie said loudly.  
  
"He wasn't meant to hear the truth?" Roger argued. "He wasn't meant to hear how _sorry_ Ronnie is?"  
  
At that moment, they all heard a thump on the door, and Brian's muffled voice shouting, " _Shut up_!"  
  
"What if Ronnie had found him in the hall?" Freddie exclaimed, ignoring Brian. "How would that have looked to her?"  
  
Caught between the shouting match, John covered his face with his hands.  
  
"I'm not sorry!" Roger said fiercely. "Ronnie and Deaky were suffering and something had to be done!"  
  
The bathroom door opened at that moment, and Brian stepped out with a supportive arm around a very ill Ronnie. "What is all the shouting about?" he asked, exasperated. And then he saw John, who had just lifted his face from his hands.  
  
Brian, Freddie, and Roger watched anxiously as John and Ronnie locked eyes. They were all thinking the same exact thing, that this could be the big reconciliation, finally something positive would come out of such a terrible situation...and quite quickly, the tense energy in the room exploded, and clamping a hand over her mouth, Ronnie ran back into the bathroom, and John collapsed into the chair by the bed.  
  
"I'm going to lose my mind in this house of hell," Brian muttered, disappearing back into the bathroom and slamming the door.  
  
"I'm sorry," John said quietly, so quietly they almost didn't hear him.  
  
Freddie knelt beside John. "Darling," he said in a low voice. "None of this is your fault. Maybe Roger is right. Maybe you were meant to hear all of that."  
  
Roger, who had been quietly seething in the corner, looked up in surprise.  
  
"I never should have left her there," John said in a low, harsh voice.  
  
Freddie put a hand on his back. "Don't even go there, darling. There's nothing you could have done."  
  
"Yes, there was!" John burst out. "What kind of friend am I to have left her all alone?"  
  
Noticing that John had started to tremble, Freddie grasped his friend's shoulders in alarm.  
  
"He could have hurt her!" John continued in an agonized voice. "He was planning on kidnapping her and taking her baby and who knows what else he was going to do to her! And I was allowing all of that by leaving her, I wasn't _there_ for her when I should have been."  
  
"John darling, stop," Freddie said firmly. "You didn't know he was there."  
  
"I didn't protect her," John moaned, his eyes filling with tears. "Do you know how much that hurts, Freddie? I will never, _ever_ forgive myself, and I hope she never forgives me either."  
  
"You know she will," Freddie said quietly.  
  
"I don't deserve that!" John exclaimed, his strained voice bordering on hysteria.  
  
At that moment, Roger fell to his knees before John, gently shoving Freddie away. "Deaky," he said, taking his hands. "We're going to work this out. Together. Take a big breath of air for me."  
  
John was shaking his head, but Roger squeezed his hands so hard, it hurt. "Breathe!" he demanded.  
  
Taken aback, John took a shaky breath.  
  
"Now," Roger said. "Ronnie said that she tried _everything_ she could think of to get you to leave her, and you wouldn't leave. Surely that stands for something, don't you think?"  
  
John looked down, but another squeeze of his hands from Roger forced him to look back up.  
  
"You say you shouldn't have left her," Roger continued. "But do you know what, Deaky? If you had stayed with her, you'd be _dead_."  
  
Freddie was nodding along slowly, trying not to be impressed with Roger's conviction but failing horribly.  
  
"And you can see how poor Ronnie is dealing with being responsible for your broken heart," Roger said, throwing his arm out momentarily and pointing at the bathroom door. "Can you imagine how she'd feel thinking she was responsible for your death?"  
  
John was suddenly clinging to Roger's hands in return as his words sunk in.  
  
"You can repeat that you shouldn't have left until you're blue in the face," Roger said roughly. "But the fact is that you were being held at gunpoint, even if you didn't know it, and if you had stayed there for any reason, you wouldn't be here with us right now." Roger's voice softened. "And we wouldn't be able to bear that, Deaky."  
  
Roger's rant had shocked John into silence, but as his final words sunk in, he slumped forward and Roger caught him in a tight hug.  
  
Freddie, who had watched the entire scene with wide eyes, immediately began patting his pockets. He wasn't sure what he needed more, a handkerchief or a cigarette.  
  
Roger peeked hopefully over John's head at Freddie. Freddie gave him a tired smile. "Well done, darling," he whispered.  
  
\---  
  
Brian poked his head around the bathroom door and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the room was empty. The last ten minutes had been quality time with Ronnie indeed, as he rubbed her back and pulled her hair away while she threw up, and dabbed at her hot face with a cold washcloth, and begged her to let him take her to hospital. He didn't have a thermometer handy, but he was almost convinced that she had a fever.  
  
Ronnie had refused to go to the hospital, and so, Brian had settled for assisting her while she brushed her teeth, and helping her into her bed. Turning off the light, he made himself comfortable in the chair by the bed.  
  
"You don't have to stay, Brian," Ronnie whispered.  
  
"Either you go to the hospital or you let me stay with you," Brian said, leaving no room for argument. His nerves were quite worn down from being so worried about Ronnie, from the uncharacteristic hatred he felt towards Steve, and from the tangled feelings of all of the individuals he was currently living with.  
  
"All right," Ronnie said weakly, giving in and turning her head away, as she fell asleep almost instantly.  
  
\---  
  
Approximately four hours later, Freddie was sitting in the chair by Ronnie's bed. He had insisted that Brian get some rest, and now he sat with a flashlight propped in his mouth as he scribbled down ideas for a song about a high class prostitute who, to avoid complications, never kept the same address.  
  
Freddie remained engrossed in his task until he heard the slight creak of the bedroom door opening. Looking up, he saw John step quietly into the room.  
  
"How is she?" John whispered, clearly worried, as he joined Freddie at Ronnie's bedside.  
  
"She's sound asleep, darling," Freddie said, patting his arm.  
  
"Freddie," John said timidly. "If you wanted to go back to sleep, I could....stay with her for awhile."  
  
Freddie smiled at him sadly. "That's very thoughtful, dear, but you and your ribs need rest just as much as she does."  
  
John turned to go and sensing his disappointment, Freddie sat up a bit straighter. "You know, darling, I could really use a piss break. Perhaps you could stay with her for just a few minutes."  
  
John nodded quickly, taking his task very seriously. Once Freddie left the room, he sunk slowly into the chair, and watched Ronnie's face. Even after crying earlier in the night, and throwing up multiple times, and sick with a fever, she was still beautiful, and he pressed his hands against his heart, not used to feeling such an ache.  
  
And very suddenly, a look of distress passed over Ronnie's peaceful face, and wrapping her arms around herself, she began to shiver. "No," she whispered, and John, slightly alarmed, leaned closer to her.  
  
"No!" she said again, this time more forcefully, as she began to thrash, her head turning this way and that. John jumped to his feet, and afraid to touch her, he poked her in the shoulder and whispered loudly, "Ronnie! Ronnie, wake up!"  
  
When it was clear that wasn't going to work, John sat on the bed next to her and tried to shake her awake. After an agonizing twenty seconds, Ronnie sat up quickly with a loud shriek.  
  
Knowing he couldn't let her suffer by herself, John wrapped his arms around her from behind and was shocked when she began to fight him, struggling to get out of his grasp.  
  
The door opened swiftly and Freddie ran into the room, having heard Ronnie's cry of terror. His heart warmed when he saw John on the bed with her but when he saw Ronnie's distress, and how John was holding her from behind, his arms around her upper arms and shoulders, he quickly sat on the bed in front of Ronnie.  
  
"If you hold her like that, she will think she's still in her nightmare, darling," Freddie said gently, as he removed John's arms, and Ronnie moaned in horror and fell forward onto her hands, trying to steady her quick breathing. "That's how captors hold their victims and I'm sure this dream was about _him_."  
  
John gave Freddie a nervous look, clearly unsure of what to do.  
  
"Don't be afraid of her body, darling," Freddie said quietly, as he took John's arms and placed them in the correct position. "One arm around her middle...that it's, darling, her pregnant belly won't bite you...and the other arm around her chest, hand lightly resting on the elbow...perfect! You're a natural, my dear."  
  
"Talk to her for me, Freddie," John whispered. "Be my voice. She shouldn't know I'm here."  
  
Freddie gave John a reassuring smile and taking Ronnie's hands, he asked her, "Did you have a nightmare, darling?"  
  
Ronnie nodded, visibly shaken.  
  
"Would you like to tell me about it?" Freddie asked gently.  
  
"H-he was here," Ronnie whispered.  
  
"Who was here?" Freddie questioned, and, trying to make her smile, he gasped and said, "Roger?"  
  
Ronnie's lips turned up slightly, as she wanted so badly to smile, but fear once again flashed across her face as she said, "Steve."  
  
"He's not here," Freddie told her firmly. "And he won't ever be here again."  
  
"He was chasing me, Freddie," Ronnie whispered. "And he caught me this time."  
  
Freddie rubbed her hands briskly, trying to bring some positive energy back into her body. Ronnie gave him a grateful smile and as she woke up a little more, she wondered to herself, if both of Freddie's hands were holding hers, then whose arms were around her? Curious, and slowly forgetting her nightmare, she turned to look over her shoulder, but Freddie quickly put a finger under her chin and turned her face back towards him.  
  
"You need to go back to sleep, darling," he whispered. "I'll be here with you the whole night, and when you wake up in the morning, we can discuss which leotards I'll wear for the next tour."  
  
Ronnie grinned sleepily and leaning back into the mysterious pair of arms, she closed her eyes. Freddie released her hands.  
  
"You're so good with women, Freddie," John said wistfully.  
  
"That's not all I'm good with, darling," Freddie said with a wink, then watched sadly as John absentmindedly leaned down and planted a kiss on Ronnie's head.  
  
Freddie felt a sudden spark of rage as he realized that this potential relationship could have blossomed so beautifully if it hadn't been for Steve. Freddie thought to himself that Steve would be very lucky if the police found him because if he, Roger, or Brian encountered him first, he'd beg for mercy.  
  
And he wouldn't get any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love reading your comments. Thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think and thank you everyone for continuing to read - it means so much!!


	13. Chapter 13

A couple of nights later, a pain in Ronnie's belly woke her in the middle of the night and groaning, she rolled over and clutched her midsection. Eyes fluttering open, she tried to process the pain she was feeling, and realized she felt quite uncomfortable. The sheets were sticking to the back of her thighs, as if there was something wet on the bed...  
  
Flipping on the bedside lamp, Ronnie sat up, threw back the covers and covered her mouth with both hands to suppress her cry of alarm.  
  
She was bleeding, sitting on a stain of blood the size of a watermelon.  
  
Jumping out of bed, Ronnie peeled off her bottom layers and stepped into a clean pair of underwear - which she stuffed with a wad of toilet paper, since she hadn't brought any pads because hadn't she unwillingly traded periods for pregnancy? - and a pair of jeans.   
  
Over the past few days, she had started to feel much better, if not quite one hundred percent, and had even convinced Brian, Freddie, and Roger that she didn't need to be watched over every moment. As she opened her bedroom door, she thought darkly how that sense of freedom would disappear when they learned what just happened.  
  
Ronnie stumbled down the hall towards Brian's room, thinking it would be best to ask him to take her to the hospital, since he had the keys to the van. Ronnie banged on the door and as another pain hit her, she doubled over and clung to the door frame for support.  
  
A few moments later, a very sleepy Brian opened the door, but the moment he saw Ronnie and the state she was in, he stepped forward and grasped her shoulders.  
  
"What's wrong?" he immediately asked.  
  
"Could I take you up on your offer to bring me to the hospital?" Ronnie asked pitifully.   
  
Brian cupped her face affectionately with both hands. "Of course. Give me one moment."  
  
While Brian went to find a pair of pants, Ronnie allowed herself to slide down the wall and onto the ground, thinking she would wait for Brian on the floor. It just hurt so much to stand up...  
  
...but Brian had wasted no time and within thirty seconds, Ronnie felt herself being helped back up to her feet.   
  
With a supportive arm around her waist, Brian tried his best to move them quickly and safely down the staircase, but another wave of pain caught Ronnie by surprise, and letting out a moan, she fell into Brian, who promptly fell into the wall with a bang.  
  
Footsteps from below echoed through the downstairs hallway and within a few moments, Freddie was standing before them, still fully dressed.   
  
"What the hell are you doing and why wasn't I invited?" Freddie asked dramatically.  
  
"Why aren't you sleeping, like you should be?" Brian asked as he pushed himself away from the wall and steadied Ronnie.  
  
"Brian's taking me to hospital," Ronnie said, her voice shaking with the effort it was taking her not to scream in pain or fear.  
  
She watched as Freddie did the quick calculations in his head, and saw his eyes widen when he realized this couldn't possibly be labor, because she wasn't due for another four months.   
  
"Well, then Brian's taking me to the hospital, too," Freddie said firmly.  
  
"Come on then," Brian said impatiently, as they continued their descent down the stairs.  
  
After a few minutes - which really felt like hours - Ronnie was gently helped into the backseat of the van. Freddie made himself comfortable next to her, while Brian jumped into the driver's seat, turned the key in the ignition, and stepped on the gas.  
  
As they sped down the deserted road, Freddie looked over his shoulder and saw one of the upstairs windows of the farmhouse light up.  
  
"That'll be Roger," he said, turning back around. "We'll have to call him when we get there."  
  
Brian opened his mouth to answer and very suddenly, slammed on the breaks. Freddie managed to hold Ronnie against the seat, as he jerked forward and hit the back of the seat in front of him.  
  
" _Brian!_ " Freddie shouted in alarmed disbelief.  
  
"Well, put your seatbelt on, Fred!" Brian exclaimed, as he pushed open the van door and jumped out. After ten seconds, he got back in, and they were off once more.  
  
"What was that all about?" Freddie demanded.  
  
"There was a hedgehog in the road, poor thing. I helped her to safety."  
  
"Oh for Christ's sake," Freddie muttered, taking Ronnie's hands.   
  
"Ronnie, breathe!" Brian instructed from the front seat, ignoring Freddie. "Don't stop breathing!"  
  
"Obviously, darling," Freddie said. "If she did, she'd be dead."  
  
Digging a hand into his pocket, Brian tossed a book into the backseat. Catching it, Freddie squinted into the darkness and saw that he had been handed The Obstetrics Handbook - apparently, Brian's current Bible.  
  
"Turn to chapter six," Brian directed him. "Breathing techniques."  
  
Freddie flipped through the pages before throwing the book into the passenger seat. "It's too dark to read, dear. Shall I throw it out the window now or later?"  
  
Brian rolled his eyes.  
  
I have a better idea," Freddie said, turning to Ronnie. "Repeat after me dear...Ay oh."  
  
"Ay oh," Ronnie whispered back. She couldn't help but think how last time they had said those words, they were singing happily in the rain. Now, they were sitting fearfully in the backseat of a van, whispering.  
  
Back and forth they went, with Freddie uttering different combinations of the two words. Brian couldn't help but smile in the backseat as he realized that Ronnie was very focused as she repeated after Freddie, and that it was taking her mind off her pain.  
  
They had all settled into a calm, comfortable silence, when suddenly, from the backseat -   
  
"Brian dear, drive faster," Freddie commanded.  
  
"Do you want to be dead or alive when we arrive at the hospital?" Brian said irritably.  
  
Needless to say, the three of them - especially Ronnie - were very relieved when they finally pulled up to the emergency room doors.  
  
\---  
  
The next couple of hours were not easy, but Ronnie hadn't expected them to be.  
  
As she was being escorted to a hospital room, she tried her best to be brave as she looked over her shoulder at Freddie and Brian, who had to stay in the waiting room this time. She watched as they tried to put aside their concerned expressions for her - Brian giving her a double thumbs up and Freddie giving her a silent round of applause - but she could tell how badly they wanted to come with her. And she desperately wished that she didn't have to go through this alone.  
  
In fact, as she stripped down to nothing, put on a stiff hospital gown, and placed her feet in the dreaded stirrups on the examination table, she took her pitiful ruminations one step further and thought how desperately she wished she had a husband because then she really wouldn't be in this room alone.  
  
Ronnie stared up at the ceiling, legs spread, as she was examined, poked, prodded, and monitored. At some point, someone stuck a thermometer in her mouth. But all she could think of was how this would have never happened if she hadn't been so easily titillated and so stupid. This was her punishment. And those thoughts only brought her down lower.  
  
Some time later - she really didn't know how much time had passed - a doctor was gently helping her sit up, and before he left, she heard him say that a nurse would be in shortly to help her clean up. Confused, she glanced down at the paper covering the examining table and saw more blood. Lifting her gown, she saw her thighs were totally stained with it. Pressing her hands against her stomach, she realized the pain was gone. And very suddenly, the fear she had been suppressing washed over her in a tidal wave.  
  
Had she lost the baby? She hadn't wanted it in the first place, but she didn't want it to _die_.  
  
Turning away from the door and propping herself up with one hand, Ronnie covered her mouth with her other hand, squeezed her eyes shut, and let out a frightened sob.  
  
\---  
  
Freddie opened the door just a crack. He was fairly certain this was the room Ronnie was being examined in, and if he was wrong - well, he'd probably be arrested for breach of privacy, but it was a risk he was willing to take.  
  
Immediately after Ronnie had been taken to the examination room, Brian had called the farmhouse to tell Roger and John what had happened, and they had both insisted on coming to the hospital, too. Freddie had been very impressed with how well Roger's reckless plan from a few nights before had worked and, thinking he should be a little bit reckless himself, he had snuck John down the hall of the hospital. His plan was to give John and Ronnie a moment alone together so that John could tell her he knew everything, and then Ronnie would stop stressing, and as a result, stop bleeding, and...  
  
Freddie shook his head. It was frightening to think like Roger.  
  
When he saw it was indeed her room, and the miserable state she was in, he almost reconsidered his plan. Ronnie was clearly not ready for visitors, but she looked like she could really use a friend...  
  
John peeked over Freddie's shoulder and saw Ronnie turned away from the door, shoulders shaking. He inhaled sharply. "She's upset, Freddie."  
  
"She is," Freddie agreed, before grabbing John's arm and tugging him forward. "Go to her, darling."  
  
"Me?" John asked nervously. Freddie had simply said they were both going to visit Ronnie, not that he was going in alone.  
  
"Darling, look at her," Freddie said sadly. "She's only twenty years old. She's young, and sick, and heartbroken, and frightened out of her wits. She needs a hug and a shoulder to cry on."  
  
"Why aren't you going in and holding her w-while she cries?" John asked anxiously.  
  
"I'd have already been in there doing just that, except for one thing," Freddie said.  
  
"What's that?" John asked.  
  
"That you need to be alone with her so you can tell her that you know everything," Freddie said cheerfully, giving John a shove into the room, and closing the door.  
  
It was times like these that John could almost swear that Freddie could read his mind. He had been planning on putting this moment off because he felt so guilty for eavesdropping in the first place.  
  
Very quietly, John made his way over to the examination table. Ronnie, so wrapped up in her own misery, hadn't even noticed that anyone had entered and remained in the same position, hand clamped over her mouth, eyes shut, legs streaked with blood curled underneath her. He had always thought of Ronnie as a strong, independent spirit - and she certainly still was - but Freddie was right. She was _so_ young, sitting there in a hospital gown, quietly crying out her fear on an examination table stained with her own blood.  
  
Before he could change his mind, John reached out and awkwardly put his arms around Ronnie, biting his lip nervously. The hospital gown she was wearing was so _thin_ and he could feel every curve of her.  
  
 _Don't be afraid of her body, darling_ , Freddie had said the other night, and scolding himself, John pulled her closer, relaxing when she clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder.  
  
"Sshh," John whispered, rocking her back and forth as she sobbed out her misery, hoping he was doing it right. He knew she didn't know that she was crying on _his_ shoulder but it seemed that she didn't care whose shoulder it was at that moment. And that was all right with him.  
  
\---  
  
It was true, Ronnie didn't care whose shoulder she was soaking with her tears, just as long as there was someone there to keep her from falling apart. As her sobs finally subsided, she raised her head a few inches and looked at the door, which had just opened slightly. She saw Freddie and Roger wave at her, and thought to herself that it must be Brian holding her.  
  
But when Brian appeared behind them, clearly stressed and ready to reprimand them for sneaking around where they shouldn't, Ronnie's mouth fell open. If the three of them were in the doorway, then who...  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Ronnie saw long, brown hair. No, she thought to herself. It couldn't be. Gazing once more at the three guys in the doorway, she widened her eyes and shook her head very slowly in disbelief. Freddie and Roger nodded eagerly, as if to say, _Oh yes, darling, it's who you think it is_. Brian squinted, clearly not knowing what was going on.  
  
Brian then glanced over his shoulder, saw something that alarmed him, and grabbing Freddie and Roger, hurried them all away as a nurse approached and entered the room.  
  
Ronnie pulled herself away from John and hesitantly looked up at him. He gave her a sweet smile - like the old Deaky smiles that he used to give out so freely - but she could only stare at him in awe. What had changed? The last time they had spoken he had asked her to leave him...  
  
The nurse put a gentle hand on his back and said, "I'm just going to need to steal her for a bit now, but I'll come to the waiting room and fetch you when we're done."  
  
John nodded but before he turned to go, the nurse asked to inspect his face, and offered to take the stitches out of the gash on his cheek when she was done. John gratefully accepted.  
  
As he left, Ronnie realized that the nurse must have thought he was her husband and that's why he wasn't in trouble for being in this part of the hospital.  
  
\---  
  
After narrowly avoiding being caught by the nurse, Brian, Freddie, and Roger settled themselves back in the waiting room. Freddie pulled out a little notebook and continued to jot down lines for his newest song about a high class prostitute who in conversation, spoke just like a baroness. Next to him, Roger fidgeted anxiously in his chair.  
  
"I'm so nervous," he whispered, his right leg - the one closest to Brian - jittering uncontrollably.  
  
"Which is why you're not talking to any medical staff this time," Brian told him firmly.  
  
Freddie looked up from his notebook curiously.  
  
"When we took Ronnie to her prenatal appointment," Brian explained, "Roger told the nurse that he was the father, that I was the father, and then that the father was a drug-stealing cow thief who was residing in a Guatemalan prison."  
  
Freddie tried to hide a grin as he turned back to his song. "It's a good thing you're pretty, darling."  
  
Roger scoffed, and continued to writhe uncomfortably in his chair.  
  
When John walked into the waiting room a few minutes later, the three boys leaned towards him eagerly.  
  
"Well?" Freddie asked impatiently.  
  
"Good news," John said pleasantly.  
  
"You told her everything?" Brian guessed.  
  
"And she stopped bleeding?" Freddie asked hopefully.  
  
"And then you kissed her?" Roger demanded.  
  
John gave them a typical Deaky smile. "They're going to take my stitches out." And leaving no room for further questions, he sat next to Freddie and promptly buried his nose in a magazine.  
  
The rest of the band looked at each other before Brian finally clamped his hand down on Roger's knee to still his shaking leg. "Calm yourself!" he snapped.  
  
"She's going to be fine," Freddie added. "And you're going to be fine, too, Rog."  
  
Brian stood up then and said darkly, "I'm going to the gift shop to see if they sell thermometers."  
  
"How awfully kind," Roger said. "I'm sure the medical staff here will appreciate that."  
  
Deciding that didn't warrant a response, Brian walked away.  
  
"That big house we're living in doesn't have a thermometer?" Roger asked, turning to Freddie.  
  
"The thermometer probably went to whatever alternate reality the scissors went to," Freddie said sarcastically, and Roger rolled his eyes.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie was settled in an actual bed in an actual hospital room and surrounded by the band when the doctor came in to tell her that the baby was just fine, that bleeding while pregnant was normal at times, and her heavy flow was due to stress and illness. Additionally, the pains she was experiencing were called non-productive cramping and that was normal, too.  
  
But because she still had a bit of a fever and because the bleeding had come on so suddenly, they were keeping her at the hospital for a day for observation.  
  
Ronnie slept through much of the next day, but by five in the afternoon she was awake, feeling much better, and completely bored. When the band arrived to visit, although Roger brought her an assortment of hospital pamphlets that would certainly keep her occupied for awhile, she suggested they accompany her on an adventure out of the room.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ronnie," Brian said regretfully, squeezing her hand. "But you need to rest."  
  
"I feel rested," Ronnie insisted. "In fact, I'm probably cured."  
  
"Come on, Bri," Roger added. "Just a few minutes out of the room?"  
  
Brian shook his head and said gently to Ronnie, "You'll be leaving tomorrow morning and then we'll take you wherever you want."  
  
"You've turned him into quite the mother hen," Roger muttered.  
  
Sighing, Ronnie leaned back and plucked the first pamphlet off of the stack of hospital brochures. "No matter," she said. "I'll just stay here and read to you about the relationship between sex and heart disease."  
  
John blushed as Freddie leaned forward, giving her his full attention.  
  
"As interesting as that sounds," Roger said. "I was thinking perhaps we could pop over to the cafeteria."  
  
"And leave Ronnie here, after we just told her she couldn't go anywhere?" Brian asked, incredulous.  
  
"We'll bring you back something nice," Roger said imploringly to Ronnie, and as the guys - clearly hungry - all looked at her hopefully, Ronnie smiled and said, "Go."  
  
"I'll stay with her," Roger suggested.  
  
Brian raised an eyebrow. "Why? You just wanted to go to the cafeteria."  
  
"To keep her company," Roger said defensively.  
  
Reluctantly, the others agreed.   
  
"Don't start the pamphlet without me, darling!" Freddie said with an eager smile.  
  
"They're going to regret that," Roger said with a devious smile after they had left.  
  
Ronnie raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"  
  
"Because I'm taking you out," Roger announced. "There's something I want to show you. If you're up for it, that is."  
  
"But Brian said no!" Ronnie said nervously, but still found herself scrambling out of the hospital bed and slipping on a pair of sneakers. She was dying to get out of that room. "What if they come back and see that we're gone?"   
  
Roger scrunched up his face in thought. "We should have convinced Deaky to stay with us," he said. "We could have put him under the covers and he could have pretended to be you."  
  
Ronnie laughed at that.  Pleased, Roger shrugged off his jacket, and helped her into it. Ronnie smiled gratefully, glad that she didn't need to go out in just her flimsy hospital gown.   
  
Roger motioned for her to follow him. "We'll be back before they return anyway."  
  
\---  
  
Roger led Ronnie down the hallway, holding her hand tightly and stealthily looking over his shoulder. They rounded a corner and suddenly very alarmed, Roger pushed her back the way they had come.   
  
"What is it?" Ronnie whispered anxiously.  
  
"The band," Roger whispered back.   
  
Pressing their backs against the cold, concrete wall, Roger chanced another look around the corner, and pulled back immediately. Letting out a sigh of frustration, he said in a low voice, "What are they doing just hanging out in the hallway? Don't they know loitering is a crime?"  
  
"Is it?" Ronnie asked, but the sound of voices coming closer forced Roger to take Ronnie by the arm and pull her into the nearest open doorway, closing the door so it was open just a crack.  
  
Wherever they were, it was a tight squeeze and it smelled like bleach. Leaning forward to peek out, Ronnie felt something wet on her cheek and let out an involuntary cry of alarm. Roger put a hand over her mouth and they held their breath as Brian, Freddie, and John stopped outside the doorway.  
  
"Did you hear that?" Brian asked.  
  
"Hear what?" John replied, looking around.  
  
"I thought I heard a scream," Brian said uncertainly.  
  
"Well, it is a _hospital_ , darling," Freddie pointed out. "I'm sure people scream here all the time." And with that, he pushed his bandmates along.  
  
Turning on the light, Ronnie saw that Roger's choice of sanctuary had been a broom closet and she had come cheek to cheek with a wet mop. Looking at each other, they burst out laughing.  
  
Their destination wasn't far and as they approached a glass window, Roger announced, "We're here!"  
  
Peering through the window, Ronnie saw a room filled with newborn babies. Roger had discovered the viewing pane into the nursery.  
  
Pressing a hand against the glass, Ronnie tried to sort out how she was feeling. Part of her was filled with excitement, as she looked at ten tiny fingers, and ten perfect toes, and numerous bundles of joy. The other part of her was filled with dread, as she thought about how she would soon be responsible for one of these little human beings and how overwhelming that would be.   
  
"I know you're growing your own and everything but you haven't seemed very excited about it," Roger said in an uncertain voice. "So I brought you here."  
  
Still wrapped up in her own thoughts, Ronnie realized how drastically her life was about to be changed forever and she wasn't sure she wanted that.  
  
Roger interpreted her silence in a different way, and said reassuringly, "I'm sure yours will look just like those ones."  
  
Snapping out of it, Ronnie turned to him with a smile. "Thank you, Roger," she said, reaching out and patting his arm. "I think this was exactly what I needed."  
  
Roger beamed and as they began the walk back, Ronnie thought sadly that he obviously thought it was what she needed to cheer up, when in reality, it was what she needed to make a very important decision.  
  
As they passed yet another brochure rack, she stopped and scanned the different subjects, before she found what she was looking for. Grabbing a hospital pamphlet on adoption, she quickly stuffed it into the pocket of the jacket she was wearing. Roger realized he was walking and talking with no one and retraced his steps back to her.  
  
"Did I miss one?" he asked her, as they looked at all the pamphlets. "I'm pretty sure I brought you one of each..."  
  
Ronnie plucked out a pamphlet about carpal tunnel and handed it to Roger. "Maybe you could give this to Brian. You know, he'll need to protect his wrists with all of that guitar work he does."  
  
Roger nodded in agreement, clearly wondering why he hadn't thought of that.  
  
\---  
  
When Roger and Ronnie walked back into her hospital room, they saw exactly the sight they had been dreading: three very worried band members staring at them.   
  
"Where were you!" Brian exclaimed to Roger, jumping up from his chair.  
  
"I just took her out for a walk, that's all," Roger said casually.  
  
"After I told you that it wasn't a good idea?" Brian asked angrily.  
  
"Brian, I'm so sorry," Ronnie said, wringing her hands.  
  
Brian's face softened as he turned to Ronnie. "I'm sure it wasn't your idea, Ronnie. Roger was clearly planning this," and turning to Roger, he added sharply, "which is why he sent us to the cafeteria."  
  
"I honestly thought we'd be back before you returned," Roger admitted. Realizing they hadn't been gone that long, he added, "Why _are_ you back so soon?"  
  
"Because we realized we never asked you if you wanted anything," Freddie replied from the chair on the other side of the bed.  
  
Brian glared at Roger, as Ronnie crawled back into her bed.  
  
"She needed air, Brian!" Roger said defensively. "You can't expect her to stay cooped up in this room all day!"  
  
"That's what people in the hospital _do_!" Brian said, clearly frustrated. "They stay in their rooms so they can get better!"  
  
"I'm sorry, I forgot that hospital tenants aren't allowed to have fun," Roger spat.  
  
"They're called patients, Roger."  
  
"Well, you're overreacting. As usual."  
  
"And you're underreacting, as usual!"  
  
"Oh, get that stick out of your arse, Brian," Roger said irritably. "Or would you like me to take it out for you?"  
  
"Oh, piss off, Roger!" Brian shot back.  
  
"Stop fighting!" John said firmly from his corner and everyone turned to look at him in surprise.  
  
"Although you do make a beautiful wallflower," Freddie said to John, "I must ask, what are you doing all the way over there, darling?"  
  
Before she knew what she was doing, Ronnie stretched out her hand to John. He walked forward and hesitantly took it. She pulled him up onto the bed with her, so at least he'd have somewhere to sit.  
  
"We're not fighting," Brian said calmly. "We're having a civilized argument."  
  
"We are _not_ ," Roger retorted. "You verbally attacked me the moment I walked through the door."  
  
"They even fight about fighting," John whispered to Ronnie, and she grinned.  
  
Freddie tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Is it just me or is it the more time we spend together, the more we fight?" Then, he added darkly, "That can't be good."  
  
"It's my fault," Ronnie said in a small voice, her smile disappearing. "I'm the reason we're all stuck in a house together."  
  
"That's not true," John said quietly, while Freddie added, "Don't even say that, darling."  
  
"They're right," Brian agreed. "Ronnie, we're all perfectly happy to be in that house together, as long as you're safe."   
  
He turned back to Roger and said forcefully, "That's why I _overreact_ , as you call it. Because I worry constantly about her and..." he trailed off, as if he wasn't quite sure if he should continue.  
  
"Well, spit it out!" Roger fumed.  
  
"...and I wasn't going to say anything, but Ratty said Steve was just spotted back in Ronnie's town," Brian finished quietly.  
  
Ronnie let out a small breath of fear, and John and Freddie reached out to her. Brian gave her a reassuring smile and said, "Don't worry, Ronnie. There's no way he'll find you out here."  
  
Turning back to Roger, Brian continued, "So when we returned to an empty room, and you're both nowhere to be found when we expected you to be here, and Steve still hasn't been caught..." He shrugged, letting Roger fill in the missing pieces.  
  
Roger was quiet, and clearly feeling guilty.  
  
"I was just showing her the babies," he said softly, before adding, "I wouldn't have let anything happen to her."  
  
"I know you wouldn't," Brian agreed. "Sorry, Rog."  
  
"Me too, Bri," Roger said, as they went in for a manly one armed hug.  
  
"Look at you two," Freddie said suddenly with a smile, taking in the sight of Ronnie and John squashed together on the small bed. "Like two birds of a feather."  
  
"See Deaky?" Roger said enthusiastically. "Aren't you glad you told her everything?"  
  
There was an awkward silence, as Ronnie looked at everyone and John looked at no one. Finally, she asked, "Tell me what?"  
  
Freddie's jaw dropped. "Darling, you didn't tell her that you know?"  
  
Clearly uncomfortable, John looked down, which was answer enough for his bandmates.  
  
"When we asked you on the ride home this morning, you said it was all under control," Brian pointed out.  
  
John looked up. "It was the truth. Everything _is_ under control, I just didn't have a chance to..." his voice trailed away.  
  
Brian gently pushed Roger to the door, and motioned to Freddie. "We'll give you two a moment, then."  
  
"You don't have to leave!" John said nervously.  
  
"Yes we do!" Roger shouted from the hall.  
  
"This is something you should really do alone, darling," Freddie said gently, and closed the door behind them, leaving John and Ronnie completely alone.  
  
Sensing that John needed a moment, Ronnie folded her legs underneath her, circled her arms around her belly, and waited patiently.   
  
After quite a few moments, John took a deep breath and, staring at the bed, said, "I...I know what happened."  
  
Ronnie thought she knew what he meant but she needed it confirmed. "What do you mean?"  
  
John swallowed hard and tried again. "I k-know what really happened on the night of the concert."  
  
"You do?" Ronnie asked in surprise.  
  
"Yes," John said softly, still not meeting her eyes.  
  
Ronnie threw her arms him, almost knocking him off of the bed. "I'm so relieved to hear that," she whispered.  
  
Catching his breath and practically drowning in his own relief, John hugged her tightly, unsure if he'd be able to let her go this time.  
  
"Telling you those things was the hardest thing I have ever done," Ronnie continued, as her relief poured out of her in the form of words. "I never meant to hurt you, John, I was just so afraid, and I didn't know how else to make you leave, and I tried for days to tell you the truth and - "  
  
"I know," John said gently. The words were coming so much easier now that he was talking to her hair. "And Ronnie, for that I'm sorry. I should have never reacted the way I did, avoiding you in the days after, and not listening to you that day in the bathroom. It's unforgivable, really, and stupid - "  
  
"You thought I was serious," Ronnie said, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I would have reacted the same way."  
  
"I-I'm glad you said those things that night," John told her. "You saved my life. But can you ever forgive me for leaving you there alone?"  
  
"There's nothing to forgive," Ronnie insisted. "If you had stayed with me you wouldn't be here with me right now."   
  
John let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, along with a nervous laugh. "You have no idea how relieved I am."  
  
Ronnie laughed. "Me too, Deaky."  
  
She didn't know it, but at that moment, John's heart rose, he was so pleased to hear her using his nickname again.   
  
Pulling away, Ronnie looked at him curiously and asked, "How did you find out? Did the guys tell you?"  
  
"N-no, not really..." John looked positively guilty. "I sort of overheard you telling them." He added quickly, "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just sort of..."  
  
"I made him," Roger said, sticking his head into the room.  
  
"Well, I'm glad you did," Ronnie said, shrugging off Roger's jacket and handing it back to him.  
  
Ronnie was so caught up in the joy of knowing that John knew the truth that it was only later that she realized she never took the adoption pamphlet out of Roger's jacket pocket.  
  
\---  
  
The next morning, after they were all back at the farmhouse, Ronnie crept into the kitchen. The boys had been so good to her while she was ill, and she wanted to thank them by making them breakfast. Although in all honesty, she really couldn't cook or bake, she wanted to try, and figured she couldn't go wrong with pancakes.  
  
Ronnie whipped up the batter easily, and it wasn't until she was standing in front of the stove that she realized she had a problem.  
  
It was a gas stove. Ronnie rolled her eyes at it. They were, in her opinion, the most dangerous invention known to man; she could never operate a gas stove without causing herself great anxiety.  
  
But she was doing this for the boys, she reminded herself, so reaching forward, she flipped the knob and frowned when nothing happened. Two seconds later, a hot blue flame burst through the iron rungs of the stove top, and letting out a shout of terror, she jumped back and knocked an open bottle of milk off the counter. She heard it hit the floor with a crash as she lunged forward and shut the stove off. The flame disappeared and she ran a hand down her face, relieved that she still had her eyebrows. _Perhaps I should have made toast_ , she thought.  
  
Sensing another presence in the kitchen, Ronnie turned and saw John leaning in the doorway, watching her with an amused expression. Ronnie felt herself turn red.  
  
Coming closer, John asked her good-naturedly, "How did you cook in your flat?"  
  
She gave him a sheepish look. "I didn't."  
  
John stood behind Ronnie and taking her hand, he put it on the stove dial. "You need to push it in first," he told her, using his fingers to push hers into the knob.  
  
Eyes wide, Ronnie shrunk back, as if she could escape the burst of blue flame that she suspected was coming, but she only succeeded in flattening herself against John's chest. John quickly put his other hand on her shoulder to steady her.  
  
Ronnie suddenly felt a sense of familiarity - almost of deja vu - come over her. It was as if, leaning against John, with his right arm around her to control the dial, she had been in this position before.  
  
When no flame appeared, John tried to keep the smile out of his voice as his continued, "Once you hear the click, turn the knob this way." With his hand still over hers, he guided her fingers in turning the knob.  
  
Very slowly, the flame crept up through the iron rungs and stayed tame.  
  
"To turn the flame up, turn the dial to high," he whispered in her ear, "and to turn the flame down, turn the dial to low."  
  
Ronnie burst out laughing. "I knew _that_ ," she said.  
  
And it was at that moment that she recognized the feeling. It had been the night she had told the band about what had happened at the concert, when she had been so sick and she had that terrible nightmare. Although she was still delirious with sleep at the time, she had remembered wondering, if Freddie was holding her hands, then who was holding her from behind?   
  
Turning around, Ronnie almost came to nose to nose with John. Was he the one who had been with her that night?  
  
"Thank you," she said sincerely, and she wasn't sure if she was thanking him for showing her how to conquer the stove, or for comforting her that night, or for everything.  
  
If John and Ronnie had turned around, they would have seen Freddie and Roger peering around the doorway, watching with wide eyes, thinking that Ronnie and John were so physically close to each other at that moment, that it would be the perfect opportunity for John to lower his head just a little bit, and...  
  
...reach beyond Ronnie for paper towels, and assist her in cleaning up milk and broken glass. Groaning, Freddie and Roger sat back in the stairway in disappointment.  
  
"He was so close," Roger whispered, shaking his head. "Why didn't he follow through?"  
  
Freddie sighed. "Honestly, darling, I don't think he was trying to seduce her. I think he genuinely wanted to show her how the stove works."  
  
"Could they be any more oblivious?" Roger asked. "Perhaps they need our help."  
  
Freddie rubbed his chin in deep thought. "Our Deaky is quite shy, and sometimes doubts his own abilities, but he has surprised us before."  
  
Roger thought about that for a moment, before nodding in agreement.  
  
"Let's give him a couple of weeks," Freddie suggested. "And if we've seen no improvement by then, we'll jump in."  
  
"All right!" Roger said eagerly. "We'll call it ODD."  
  
"Which means?"  
  
"Operation Dating Deaky."  
  
Freddie grinned and shook Roger's hand. "I love it, darling."  
  
John poked his head around the corner. "Do you want your pancakes there in the stairway or at the table?"  
  
Brian was coming down the stairs at that moment, and he grinned. "My God, you're sassy lately!" he said to John.  
  
"We should paint you green and call you sassafrass," Roger added dryly as he hoisted himself off the steps. Before he and Freddie followed Brian and John into the kitchen, they grinned knowingly at each other, both thinking the same thing.

Deaky only had two weeks to sweep Ronnie off her feet.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think - will Deaky need a little help from his friends? We're going to have a bit of fun in this next chapter - can't wait!
> 
> Thank you SO much for your amazing comments, and for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Operation Dating Deaky, Night One**  
**Freddie's Approach: Body Language  
**  
"So what's the plan?" Roger asked as he and Freddie stood at John's closed bedroom door a few weeks later.  
  
Freddie held up a pair of his leather pants. "These, darling," he said, unable to contain his grin of delight.  
  
Operation Dating Deaky was about to go into full swing. Two weeks had gone by and while John and Ronnie were spending time together again, it was really no different than the times that Ronnie shared with the rest of the band. And to Freddie and Roger, that was unacceptable.  
  
"And?" Roger asked with an equally devious smile. "Elaborate for me, Freddie!"  
  
"Girls love a man in tight leather pants, don't they?" Freddie replied as he knocked on the door.  
  
The band had snagged a local gig for that night to keep themselves in practice while not on tour, and when John answered the door, Freddie saw that he was already sensibly dressed for it, in a pair of loose fitting white pants and a dark button down shirt.  
  
"Hello," John said with a smile, standing back to let them into the room.  
  
" _H_ _ello_ , darling," Freddie drawled, dramatically pushing the door shut with an outstretched hand, while Roger made himself comfortable on John's bed.  
  
John folded his arms suspiciously.  
  
"We have an extremely important question to ask you," Roger said nonchalantly, leaning back on the bed.  
  
"Yes?" John said patiently.  
  
"That night at the concert," Freddie began, before Roger cut in and blurted out, "Did you mean for that to be a date?"  
  
John was clearly taken aback, and after a few moments, he stammered, "Well, it really depended on..."  
  
"Yes?" Freddie coaxed him.  
  
"...on how well it went," John finished.  
  
"You mean to say that if it went well, you were going to call it a date, and if it was a disaster, it wouldn't be a date?" Freddie reasoned.  
  
John nodded and Freddie felt his heart sink as he realized the lengths that John had been prepared to go to in order to protect himself.  
  
"But when you went to Ronnie's door that night, did you _mean_ for it to be a date?" Roger persisted.  
  
John sighed and looked down at the floor. "Yes."  
  
"So, darling, why haven't you picked up where you left off?" Freddie asked curiously.  
  
"What do you mean?" John asked uncomfortably.  
  
Roger decided to put it plainly. "Why are you and Ronnie still just friends?"  
  
"We just reconciled," John pointed out.  
  
"Two weeks ago!" Roger exclaimed.  
  
"Well, I...I don't want to rush her or anything..."  
  
"You're afraid, aren't you, darling?" Freddie said gently. "You do know that she truly didn't mean those things she said to you, don't you? That it was that arse-flap Steve talking through her?"  
  
"Yes," John replied quietly. "But I spent a whole week thinking she meant it."  
  
"That's behind you now," Freddie insisted. "Ancient history, darling. There's nothing preventing you from moving forward now."  
  
"But what if she doesn't feel the same?" John asked anxiously.  
  
"She adores you, darling."  
  
John went silent, clearly unsure of how to proceed with his situation and the current conversation.  
  
"Well, we're here to help you," Roger announced.  
  
"If you want our help, that is," Freddie added.  
  
"Help me what?" John asked.  
  
"You _are_ an innocent lamb, aren't you?" Freddie said, trying not to smile. "We're going to help you woo Ronnie, dear."  
  
Roger and Freddie half expected John to refuse, or make excuses, and they were equally surprised when he sighed and said, "What do you suggest?"  
  
Thrilled, Freddie tossed the pair of black leather pants at him.  
  
Catching the ball of leather, John looked at them, perplexed. "What's this supposed to do?"  
  
"Darling, do I really need to spell it out for you?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Just put them on, Deaky," Roger said encouragingly. "Women like men in hot leather pants."  
  
Dropping his modest choice of pants, John pulled on Freddie's leather pants, wincing uncomfortably when he felt how tight they were. Turning to the mirror, John lifted his shirt, and his jaw dropped. "Oh no," he whispered in alarm. "Oh no, no, no."  
  
"What is it?" Freddie asked eagerly, not able to see anything because John was blocking his own reflection. "You look marvelous? I knew it!"  
  
"They don't fit."  
  
"They're not supposed to fit," Freddie assured him. "Now zip up or do you want me to come zip them up for you?"  
  
Letting out a pained sigh, John zipped up, saw himself in the mirror, and let out a muffled cry of horror.  
  
"Well, turn around!" Roger said impatiently.  
  
"Oh, Freddie, don't do this to her," John said miserably. "I'm making even myself uncomfortable."  
  
"If you haven't scared the hell out of her with your Frankenstein scar, this will be nothing," Roger pointed out.  
  
"Roger, stop it!" Freddie retorted, before turning to John and saying, "Don't listen to him, darling. Your face looks fabulous, considering the circumstances."  
  
John pulled his shirt down over his hips. "Ready to go!" he said quickly, as he made for the door.  
  
"Not so fast darling," Freddie said, catching his arm and pushing him back to the center of the room. "It seems you forgot to tuck your shirt in."  
  
Swallowing hard, John shook his head.  
  
"Deaky darling," Freddie said sternly. "If you want our assistance then you need to _let us help you_."  
  
Lifting the hem of his shirt, John tucked it into his leather pants.  
  
"You look like you're going to cry," Roger observed.  
  
"You look..." Freddie tilted his head, taking in John's appearance, before a smile spread across his face and he exclaimed, "Magnificent!"  
  
"You look hot," Roger agreed. "You're really going to knock Ronnie's socks off."  
  
"I feel ridiculous," John said tightly.  
  
"You're not alone, darling," Freddie said, gesturing to his own appearance. "I'm wearing the same pants."  
  
"Yes, Freddie, but they're your style," John said as Freddie opened the door and pushed him out into the hall.  
  
The three bandmates made their way quickly down the stairs and saw that Brian and Ronnie were already waiting for them at the door. As they reached the downstairs hallway, John conveniently positioned himself behind Freddie.  
  
Ronnie gave them an encouraging smile. "Looking good, boys."  
  
Freddie gave her a pleased smile and turned to his left, to give John an _I-told-you-so grin_ , but saw that he was not there. Turning around, he noticed John huddled behind him.  
  
"Oh, Deaky," he muttered, taking his arm and pulling him out so that he was front and center.  
  
Up until that point, Ronnie had been casually leaning against the wall, but when she saw John in his tight leather pants, her jaw dropped. It was so...unlike him. In fact, he looked more like Freddie.  
  
Eyes wide, she turned so that she was facing Brian, to hide the fact that she was blushing furiously.  
  
Brian, trying to hide a smile at Ronnie's reaction and at the entire situation in general, looked over her head and said politely, "Tight trousers? Really, guys? Why didn't I get the memo?"  
  
"I doubt you would have obeyed even if you did get a memo," Freddie remarked.  
  
John turned for the stairs. "I'm changing."  
  
Ronnie spun around and quickly grabbed his arm. "No, Deaky," she said, taking his hands and pulling him towards the front door. "You look wonderful."  
  
"I do?" John asked doubtfully.  
  
"You do," Ronnie said sincerely, seeing Freddie and Roger out of the corner of her eye and wondering why they were shaking hands.  
  
Brian sighed, opened the front door, and motioned everyone out. "Let's rock n' roll, shall we?"  
  
\---  
  
The venue - which was really just an oversized bar - was small but the perfect place for the band to play to stay in their routine. Ronnie sat alone, sipping water and enjoying the show, at a nearby table where the band could easily keep an eye on her from the stage. Looking around, she grinned at the reaction of the crowd; they really were an incredible band and she was so lucky to work for them. But Ronnie's smile disappeared as she thought to herself that this would likely be one of the last times she'd see them play live. She couldn't bring an infant on tour...  
  
Unless...Ronnie thought of the adoption pamphlet and wished she could remember where she left it. She knew she had it at the hospital but pregnancy had seriously been affecting her memory, and now she found herself wondering if she even grabbed it out of the rack in the first place.  Sighing, she promised herself that she'd get a new one as soon as she could.  
  
After the show, the band joined her at the table and ordered drinks. For the first time in almost a month, they were able to enjoy themselves together without having to think of that terrible night.  
  
Eventually, Ronnie excused herself to go to the restroom and felt four pairs of arms try to stop her.  
  
"One of us should really go with you," Brian said immediately, and John looked incredibly sad as he stared at nothing in particular on the table, and she knew they were all thinking of that night when she was cornered in the restroom by Steve.  
  
"I'll be fine," she insisted, giving them all a reassuring smile. "Really. Please don't worry."  
  
Freddie had started to rise from his chair, but putting a hand on his arm, Ronnie gently pushed him back down. "The restroom on that night was isolated and outside. _This_ restroom is in a crowded building and there will be other women in there."  
  
Reluctantly, they agreed to let her go, but Roger yelled after her, "If you're not back in five minutes, we're coming in!"  
  
The trip to the restroom itself was uneventful, as she knew it would be, but when she passed the bar on her way back to the table, she felt a hand on her arm. Spinning around, she was relieved to see it wasn't Steve, but just a young, relatively normal looking young man.  
  
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked with a smile.  
  
_He clearly doesn't know I'm expecting,_ Ronnie thought to herself.  Freddie and John clearly weren't hiding anything that night with their tight leather pants, but she had intentionally worn a bigger sweater to hide her condition.  
  
"Oh," Ronnie said, surprised. "I think I'm all set, thank you. I've had too much to drink already."  
  
"You don't seem drunk," the man observed.  
  
"I hold my liquor well," Ronnie said, uncomfortably realizing that he was looking her up and down. She immediately went from feeling flattered to disgusted.  Why is it she only attracted creeps?  
  
"I think I could hold _you_ well," the man whispered as she went to move past him, and he blocked her way back to the table. "If you'll let me."  
  
At that moment, Ronnie felt a presence by her side and she sighed in relief.  
  
"Ready, my love?" Roger said, planting a kiss on her cheek.  
  
"Yes, darling," Ronnie replied, giving the man a meaningful look, and muttering his apologies, the man turned back to the bar.  
  
Roger kept his arm securely around her as they reached the table. "Thank you," she whispered to him.  
  
"What did that bloke want?" Brian asked, concerned.  
  
"To buy me a drink," Ronnie said lightly, hoping they'd drop the subject. The last thing they all needed was the band getting into another bar fight.  
  
"But the wanker wouldn't take no for an answer," Roger said darkly.  
  
"Good thing your loyal husband Roger came to the rescue," Freddie said with a grin, momentarily forgetting ODD, and John looked away. Freddie and Roger were trying to help him court Ronnie and he felt disappointed in himself as he thought that he should have been the one to take initiative and save her.  
  
"We should get Ronnie home before she attracts more men," Freddie added.  
  
"Or drinks too much!" Roger said gleefully.  
  
"Yes," Ronnie agreed. "This glass of water is really affecting my ability to make good decisions."  
  
"You had a whole glass of water?" Freddie asked, feigning shock. "Darling, I hope we aren't going to have to stop ten times on the way home for you to piss because you know you're not allowed to piss in the woods anymore."  
  
Roger had removed his arm from Ronnie's waist, but was looking at her belly curiously, as if noticing it for the first time. Ronnie, still smiling from Freddie's comment, gave Roger her full attention and said, "Yes Roger?"  
  
"Oh," Roger said quickly, looking away. "I was just wondering...what it felt like."  
  
Brian leaned against the wall, clearly amused.  
  
"Being pregnant?" Ronnie asked, furrowing her brow. "It sort of feels like being a sad whale on an empty beach with a perpetually full bladder."  
  
Brian laughed at that.  
  
"I think Roger wants to know what your belly feels like," Freddie said with a smirk and Roger actually blushed.  
  
"It kind of feels like a watermelon," John said quietly.  
  
Everyone turned to him in surprise.  
  
"How do you know that?" Freddie asked, clearly impressed.  
  
John blushed a brighter red than Roger. "When I was holding her at the hospital I..." He trailed off.  
  
Ronnie looped her arm through John's, sensing how uncomfortable he was, before turning to Roger. "You can touch it, if you want," she offered.  
  
"I can?" Roger asked, surprised.  
  
"Sure," Ronnie said, pulling her sweater up to reveal her round stomach, a tank top covering it like a second skin. "Find out for yourself."  
  
Hesitantly, Roger reached out and touched Ronnie's belly.  
  
"Why are you petting it, Roger?" Brian asked.  "It's not a dog."  
  
Scowling, Roger rubbed Ronnie's belly in circles, instead.  
  
"Keep rubbing it like a lamp, darling, and a genie might appear," Freddie observed.  
  
Frustrated, Roger dropped his hand. Taking pity on him, Ronnie reached out, took his hands, and placed his palms flat against her stomach. Roger's eyes widened. "Deaky, you're right."  
  
And then, he pulled his hands away quickly. "I just felt something."  
  
"It's probably the baby kicking," Ronnie explained.  
  
"It's not even born yet and it already wants to kick your arse," Brian teased.  
  
"Oh, shut up," Roger said with a scowl. "It's going to love it's Uncle Roger."  
  
As Ronnie walked out of the bar surrounded by the band, she felt happier than she had in a long time, but she couldn't deny that she also felt worried. If the band was becoming so attached to the unborn baby, how would she ever be able to give it away?  
  
\---  
  
**Operation Dating Deaky, Day Two**  
**Freddie's Approach: Body Language...Again**  
  
The next night, the band was in the barn studio, continuing to rehearse for the _Sheer Heart Attack_ album.  While they were waiting for Brian to arrive, Freddie said, "Here's the plan. Deaky, you're going to play your bass solo from Liar, and look right into Ronnie's eyes as you do it."  
  
"I don't know, Freddie..." John said uncertainly.  
  
"Can you imagine how seductive that will be!" Freddie exclaimed, clearly excited.  
  
"The solo isn't  _that_ alluring," John mumbled, plucking at a string on his bass.  
  
"Oh, nonsense dear," Freddie declared. "Even Roger gets turned on when you play it, right Rog?"  
  
Roger gave them a cheeky grin.  
  
The band had insisted that Ronnie come to the barn studio, not wanting her to be alone in the house at night, especially not with the recent sighting of Steve. Once Brian made sure she was comfortable in the control room, he joined the band and they began to work on In The Lap of the Gods.  
  
After a few takes, Freddie glanced through the glass pane into the control room and saw Ronnie leaning against the control board.  
  
"Perhaps we could practice the Liar bass solo?" he suggested casually.  
  
"Why do we need to practice the bass solo?" Brian asked, confused. "It's perfect. John's done it hundreds of times."  
  
"He just looked a bit perplexed on stage last night during the song and I want to make sure he's comfortable," Freddie replied.  
  
"Freddie, that's just his face," Roger whispered and Freddie shot him a look. Roger had clearly forgotten that he was lying to convince Brian that they needed to spend valuable studio time on something they could all play quite well.  
  
Not waiting for Brian's answer, Freddie turned to John and said, "All right, dear."  
  
Laying his hands on the strings, John listened as Roger and Brian started a few beats before the solo usually began, to give him time to prepare himself to come in. As he played the solo, he looked down and watched his own fingers travel up and down the neck of his bass.  
  
The bass solo was finished in seconds - even thought it felt like hours - and after Brian and Roger had stopped playing, Freddie stepped close to John and said in a low voice, "You're supposed to look at Ronnie, darling. You didn't look at her."  
  
Turning to Brian and Roger, he said loudly, "Again!"  
  
The second time through, John faced the control room, but played the solo with his eyes closed.  John desperately hoped Freddie hadn't noticed.  
  
"Darling, why did you close your eyes?" Freddie asked John, and Roger put a fist to his mouth to stifle a laugh. Brian looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Just look at her," Freddie continued, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.  "That's all you have to do."  
  
As they began the solo for the third time, John looked through the glass at Ronnie, but quickly lost his nerve and turned around, watching Roger at his drum set as they played and knowing that Freddie wasn't going to be pleased.   
  
"Don't look at Roger, darling, you're not trying to seduce _him_ ," Freddie said with a sigh. Roger bit his lip and wiggled his eyebrows at John. Realization slowly began to dawn on Brian, as he readied himself to support John during his solo for a fourth time.  
  
"You _can_ do this," Freddie promised, putting his hands on John's shoulders and giving them an encouraging squeeze. "Just one more time.  I believe in you, darling."  
  
Letting out a breath, John nodded and positioned his fingers once more.  
  
\---  
  
Leaning against the board in the control room, chin resting in her hands, Ronnie wondered why they were practicing the bass solo from Liar over and over again, considering that John already had it down.  
  
The first few times, Ronnie had been mesmerized at how quickly John's fingers moved, but as they began the solo for the fourth time, Ronnie's gaze lazily drifted to the other band members. When she felt someone's eyes on her, she turned back to John and was completely caught off guard when she saw that John had lifted his eyes and was watching her from under his eyebrows.  
  
Ronnie slowly raised her head off of her fists, unable to tear her eyes away from his. As his solo became more intense, and his gaze remained locked with hers, she suddenly felt very exposed and had to pat herself to make sure she was still wearing clothes.  
  
As the notes of the bass reverberated through her heart, she prayed that John would smile at her, like he always did, but he remained focused on only her, his eyes filled with...was that _fire_?  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fingers moving wildly as he raced to the solo's finish line.  
  
_Finally_ , the solo ended and John looked away, releasing her from whatever strange musical trance she had just been subjected to. Bewildered, Ronnie slid to the floor, a hand on her heart.  
  
What the hell was _that_? She was thoroughly confused and felt like she needed a cold shower and her blood pressure checked.  
  
\---  
  
"That was _perfect_ ," Freddie whispered, as soon as the solo was over.  
  
"If she hadn't been pregnant before you played that, she would be now," Roger said with a satisfied smile, before noticing that Ronnie was gone. "Where'd she go?"  
  
John guiltily looked down at his bass. "I feel like that was s-sexual harassment."  
  
"What's going on?" Brian asked, putting his guitar down and folding his arms, fixing the rest of the band with a powerful stare.  
  
"We're just trying to move things along a bit between Deaky and Ronnie," Roger said defensively.  
  
Brian glanced at John. "You're taking dating advice from Freddie and Roger? The only way Freddie knows how to date is by seduction - "  
  
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Freddie scoffed.  
  
" - and Roger doesn't even have a steady girlfriend!" Brian finished.  
  
Roger dropped his drumsticks irritably on the ground. "At least I know how to have a good time."  
  
"I'm sure Deaky is trying to win a place in Ronnie's heart, not a place in her knickers," Brian continued. "Whatever happened to chivalry?"  
  
"He's not a knight of the round table," Freddie retorted. "He's in a rock and roll band."  
  
Brian shook his head. "I'm stepping in. Tomorrow night, Deaky will win Ronnie's affections the right way."  
  
Sighing, John sat down, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Brian will have better luck?


	15. Chapter 15

**Operation Dating Deaky, Night Three**  
 **Brian's Approach: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy  
**  
"I can't believe you haven't seen this!" Roger exclaimed to Ronnie the following night, as they all gathered in the living room for a movie. "Where have you been for the last two years?"  
  
Ronnie smiled. "On the road with you guys?"  
  
While Roger chatted on about the movie of choice ( _A Clockwork Orange_ ), Brian gave John a supportive smile. His idea was to veer away from Freddie's sexually charged dating approach and return to the basics. Before Ronnie had joined them downstairs, he had informed John that all he had to do was sit next to Ronnie, watch the movie, and put his arm around her ("It's a _classic_ move," Brian had insisted).  
  
Roger was still prattling on about the movie.  
  
"It's just _so_ well done, and it's Deaky's _favorite_..."  
  
"It's your favorite too, Rog," Brian pointed out, as a very particular Freddie made a fuss about arranging everything before the movie began, calling it film feng shui.  
  
By the time he was done, Ronnie was sitting on the couch between John and Roger with a large bowl of popcorn on her lap, and Freddie had situated himself with Brian and a slightly smaller bowl of popcorn on the adjacent love seat. Roger turned off the lamp on the end table as the movie began and the room glowed with soft light from the television.  
  
John had been trying not to fidget nervously and he was almost relieved when approximately a half an hour into the film, Brian cleared his throat loudly, which was John's sign to casually put his arm around Ronnie. Glancing at Brian and Freddie on the loveseat, John saw that they were giving him matching smiles of encouragement.  
  
Flexing the fingers of his right hand slowly, John began to lift his arm. _Just up and over_ , Brian had said. _It's that easy_. But John was quickly seized with doubts and he froze.  
  
Ronnie glanced over at him and noticing his raised hand, stopped munching on her mouthful of popcorn for a moment in order to misinterpret his motives and offer him the bowl. John took it with a small smile of thanks, Ronnie turned back to the television screen, and Roger scowled as he realized how very far away the popcorn now was.  
  
Brian widened his eyes and nodded at John, urging him to try again. John raised his arm once more, letting it hover in the air for a moment, before his nerves got the best of him again, and he pulled his arm in quickly and ran a hand down his face.  
  
John turned to the loveseat and gave Freddie and Brian a pained look.  
  
Brian held up a comforting hand and then raised his other arm and stretched it across the back of the loveseat, behind Freddie. Brian then wrapped his arm around Freddie's shoulders in demonstration. Giving John a toothy grin, Freddie leaned against Brian and put his head on his shoulder.  
  
Closing his eyes, John lifted his arm for a third time. This time, he led with his elbow so that perhaps it wouldn't be so obvious, but as soon as the moment came for him to stretch his arm across the back of the couch, he felt his hands begin to shake, and although he tried to block them out, Ronnie's words from that awful night came back to him.  
  
 _Because you're suffocating me!_  
  
John dropped his arm again.  
  
It was at that point that he felt Ronnie move away from him, sliding down the couch towards Roger. His heart plummeted into the ground as he flung a look of despair towards the loveseat and shook his head.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie had been completely entranced by the movie up until the moment when she sensed John moving his arm again. He _did_ seem rather uncomfortable. Frowning, Ronnie shifted a bit, and realized how close she was to him, her hip pressed against his.  
  
Suddenly very self conscious about her growing belly and her widening hips, Ronnie thought to herself that it was no wonder John couldn't stay still. She wasn't giving him any room to breathe.   
  
Trying not to give in to despairing thoughts about her pregnant body, Ronnie moved away from John and eased closer to Roger, to give John some space. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to be smaller.  
  
\---  
  
Brian's heart ached for John as he saw Ronnie shift on the couch to move away from him. Frowning, he thought to himself, _what did she do that for_? Then again, John was moving around an awful lot, and probably disturbing her cinematic experience...  
  
John turned a hopeless face to him and Brian prepared to muster his best motivational smile and to encourage him to keep trying, but John shook his head very slowly. He was clearly giving up.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Brian saw Roger looking over at John with concern. Sucking in a breath, Brian shook his head in warning at Roger as he saw the drummer's concern turn into determination. But Roger ignored him and putting on his best shocked face, pretended to jump at something, before pushing Ronnie down the length of the sofa, right into John. He scooted down, as well, so that Ronnie was tightly squeezed between the two bandmates.  
  
Ronnie looked over at Roger in surprise, and Roger shrugged apologetically. "Spider," he said in explanation.  
  
Brian let his eyes travel back to the screen, before looking back at Roger, who was grinning at him proudly, quite impressed with himself for putting Ronnie and Deaky back in close proximity.  
  
Practically holding his breath, Brian turned to John and nodded. There was no better time to try, now that he was so close to her. John closed his eyes, swallowed his fear, and prepared to try yet _again_.  
  
Brian desperately wished he could have prevented what happened next, but it happened much too quickly. He saw the perplexed look on Roger's face and knew he was wondering what was taking John so long, and although John _was_ lifting his arm, Roger couldn't see that and reached around Ronnie to give John an encouraging poke in the shoulder.   
  
John's nerves were already highly strung and Roger's poke caught him totally off guard. He jumped in surprise and knocked the bowl over, spilling popcorn on himself but mostly on Ronnie. And Ronnie - who had once again become engrossed in the film, which was progressively becoming more intense - let out a frightened yelp and threw her arms around Roger, who shouted in alarm, "Pause it! Pause it before she misses important plot points!"  
  
John was on his knees before Ronnie in an instant. "I'm so sorry, Ronnie," he mumbled miserably, as he tried desperately to sweep popcorn off of her.  
  
"Don't worry, Deaky," Roger said, scooping a handful of popcorn off of Ronnie's lap and shoving it into his mouth. "I'm sure she likes smelling like butter."  
  
As John continued to apologize and his hands continued to brush her thighs, Ronnie caught his fingers and said, "Deaky!"  
  
John looked up at her and Ronnie's heart almost broke at his mortified expression.  
  
"It's _all right_ ," she said gently to him. "It's not a big deal."  
  
Letting go of him, Ronnie stood and the rest of the popcorn fell away. She informed the band that she was going to run upstairs to change out of her butter soaked jeans and not to restart the movie without her, and left John kneeling on the ground in the midst of a popcorn wasteland. He covered his eyes with one hand.  
  
"My approach may have been more sexually inclined but at least it worked," Freddie muttered to Brian.  
  
Brian shot him a look, before saying to Roger, "How in the hell did she end up in your arms instead of Deaky's?"   
  
Roger gave him a cheeky grin as he pulled John back onto the couch.  
  
Within ten minutes, the popcorn mess was gone and Ronnie was back on the couch in a fresh pair of jeans. As they resumed the film, she glanced at John and her heart sunk. He was leaning back into the couch, arms crossed, staring at the television, but she didn't think he was actually seeing anything, not with the way his gaze looked so empty and the way his mouth was downturned in disappointment.  
  
Reaching over, Ronnie took his hand and laced his fingers between hers, to let him know that everything was truly all right. As he looked over at her in surprise, she gave him a reassuring smile, and Brian elbowed Freddie in the ribs with a victorious smile.  
  
\---  
  
 **Operation Dating Deaky, Night Four**  
 **Brian's Approach: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy Again**  
  
The following night, Brian found himself standing at the kitchen counter, molding biscuit dough into the shape of hearts in the middle of a thunderstorm.  
  
Roger casually strolled into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, biting into an apple. "Hearts?"  
  
"Mmhmm," Brian said as he glanced out the window, though it was too dark to actually see the pouring rain. "Is that all right with you, Rog?"  
  
"Freddie thought they should be shaped like coc-"   
  
A loud crack of thunder interrupted Roger and for that, Brian was grateful.  
  
Although the previous night didn't go according to plan, it did end on a hopeful note, and Brian was eager to try something different tonight. He was planning a romantic, candlelit dinner for five, but someway, somehow, he would need to get Ronnie and John alone at the table...  
  
And then the power went out.  
  
"Well that's shitty luck," Roger remarked.  
  
Brian sighed and threw down the dough. "I suppose it's cereal tonight, then. That's romantic, right?"  
  
"Maybe the power will come back on?" Roger suggested.  
  
Brian looked out at the raging storm. "I doubt it."  
  
He was suddenly struck with an idea, and a smile slowly spread across his face as he realized that this would be better than dinner.  
  
"Why are you smiling like that?" Roger asked uncomfortably. "You look like a demented Cheshire cat."  
  
"Forget dinner," Brian said quickly. "Instead, we'll get them to dance together."  
  
Roger smirked. "Deaky won't dance."  
  
"If he wants to win Ronnie badly enough, he will," Brian replied. "Now help me find candles."  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie stood in front of the mirror in her room, completely nude. She didn't think that this tactic was going to make her feel any better, but she had to try something, because her self-consciousness was on the verge of being out of control.  
  
That morning, she had pulled on a pair of jeans and had succeeded in ripping a giant hole in the crotch. She had promptly burst into tears and spent most of the day in her room wallowing in her own despair.  
  
Of course, the situation with the jeans was incredibly frustrating but it was really nothing to fall apart over. It just happened to be the thing that tipped her over the edge. She was wearing herself down with anguished thoughts of giving up her beautiful life on the road for a lonely existence of raising a child alone. Because she _would_ be alone...what sort of man would want to marry _her_? He'd only succeed in getting someone else's kid and a wife with no self control and a wrecked body.  
  
And the nightmares she was having every other night weren't helping either.  
  
So Ronnie had stripped down to nothing in order to convince herself that this ravaged body really wasn't so bad. She placed her hands on her hips and turned this way and that as she inspected her firm, round belly, trying her best to ignore her breasts, which had absolutely no business being that large. She ran her hands down the jagged white lines on her hips and tears filled her eyes as she realized she already had stretch marks.  
  
She closed her eyes. That hadn't worked at all. She actually felt _worse_. How could she ever be expected to find love in the future when she had no love for herself? And how could she ever expect someone to love this body?  
  
It was then that she remembered the adoption pamphlet. It was quiet literally her last hope; it wouldn't give her her old body back but it could take care of everything else. Turning, she looked in all of the obvious places and when she still could not find it, she tore the room apart in desperation.   
  
But it was nowhere to be found and finally giving in, she pulled on a t-shirt, sat her bare arse on the floor, and cried. Even the sound of thunder and the sudden loss of power couldn't distract her from her sobs and move her from the floor.   
  
It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that Ronnie finally looked up.  
  
"Darling?" Freddie's voice said from the other side of the door. "Won't you come and join us?"  
  
Ronnie got up and leaned her head against the door. "I don't know, Freddie," she said, her voice clearly congested. "I'm not feeling very...good."  
  
"But we're all so cozy in the parlor, and it's not the same without you, my dear," Freddie insisted.  
  
Sighing, Ronnie threw on a pair of jeans, piled her hair on top of her head, and wiped her eyes. The least she could do was make one quick appearance, to keep the band from worrying.  
  
As she opened the door, she realized she had forgotten something, but then shrugged. She didn't plan on being downstairs long; she could put underwear back on later.  
  
\---  
  
As Ronnie sat in the parlor, which was lit only by candles, she couldn't help but feel glad that it was mostly dark. That way, the band wouldn't be able to see her red eyes, flushed cheeks, and the fact that she had decided not to bother putting her bra back on.  
  
She had to admit there was something quite relaxing about sitting in that dark room, surrounding by the gentle sound of rain tapping the window panes, the rumbling of thunder in the distance, and Freddie playing the piano.  
  
But her sense of peace was completely destroyed when Roger appeared in front of her and, taking her hands, pulled her out to the middle of the room. "Freddie, play something spicy!"  
  
Freddie began to play a waltz and Roger groaned.  
  
"What?" Freddie said innocently. "I happen to find waltzes quite hot. In fact, one day I'm going to write one for us to perform."  
  
Roger snorted doubtfully. "That'll be the day. When pigs fly and we actually earn money and become millionaires."  
  
"The Millionaire Waltz," Freddie decided. "I love it, darling."  
  
Ronnie had opened her mouth to protest, but Roger already had her in position and looked so excited, that she honestly thought that she'd rather die than disappoint him. Although she desperately wished she was wearing underwear.  
  
"I can't dance," Ronnie whispered to Roger as he began to move her around the room.  
  
"Oh, it's easy!" Roger said cheerfully. "Like this... _one two three, one two three_..."  
  
Trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of waltzing in only jeans, Ronnie let Roger lead and found he was right - it really wasn't that hard. But then Freddie began to play a much slower melody.  
  
"That's quite nice, Fred," Brian said, impressed.  
  
Freddie smiled, pleased. "It's called Love Of My Life."  
  
"Someone for the new album?" Brian inquired.  
  
"Oh, it won't be ready until the _next_ album," Freddie said, as his fingers trailed effortlessly over the keys. "I don't have the words yet."  
  
Ronnie was so busy watching Freddie play and thinking about how achingly beautiful the song was that she didn't notice that Roger had let go of her. If she had been paying attention, she would have seen Roger wrapping John's arm around her waist and placing John's hand in hers. It was only when Ronnie turned to look back at Roger that a flash of lightning showed her that John had taken his place.  
  
"Dance with me?" John asked, his voice quiet but hopeful.  
  
Caught off guard, Ronnie stared up at him and nodded stupidly.  
  
Slowly, they began to move to Freddie's beautiful song. Occasionally, John glanced over Ronnie's head at Brian and Roger, who were waltzing together to show John how it was done and to give him confidence.  
  
Ronnie found she was putting a bit of distance between herself and John, feeling quite self-conscious of her chest and scolding herself for not taking thirty seconds to dress herself properly. If she had looked over her shoulder, she would have seen Brian widening his eyes meaningfully at John and pulling Roger in closer.  
  
John followed his instructions, and as Ronnie felt John pull her closer, she held her breath nervously. Very slowly, she raised her eyes and saw John looking down at her. She almost expected to see his intense stare from a few days before, when he had scared the hell out of her with his bass solo, but his gaze was gentle - if a bit serious - and for that, she was grateful.  
  
But then Ronnie realized that her pregnant belly was pressing against John's flat belly and she couldn't help but think to herself, _This is so intimate. Friends don't dance like this_. Unable to look John in the eye, Ronnie dropped her gaze and watched Freddie play the piano.  
  
John looked at Brian and Roger again. This time, Brian raised his eyebrows, to be sure John was watching, and then placed a kiss on Roger's forehead. As Roger let out a cry of disgust and ran a wrist over his forehead to wipe the kiss away, Brian nodded to John that it was his turn.  
  
"Ugh! For Christ's sake, Brian, you could have warned me!" Roger wailed.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Roger! It's for the greater good."  
  
But John had become so distracted watching Brian and Roger's scene that he tripped and fell forward into Ronnie. As Ronnie began to fall backward, John lunged forward and caught her. His intention had only been to keep her from hitting the floor but it looked astonishingly like a dip.  
  
"Excellent!" Brian whispered.  
  
But Ronnie, already feeling quite vulnerable as she leaned backwards, could only think about how John's fingers were pressed into the flesh that she was so self-conscious of, and that his chest was pressed against hers, and how terribly heavy she must be and -   
  
It was at that moment that the lights came back on. Freddie stopped playing and banged his hands on the keys in disappointment.  
  
Sensing her discomfort, John had pulled Ronnie back to a standing position, but now as her saw her face in the light, his mouth dropped open. Her eyes were so red, and her cheeks were splashed with blotches, and she had so obviously been crying, and for a long time...  
  
"Ronnie?" John whispered, his eyes widening in alarm as he reached up and ran a thumb across her blotched cheek. "Ronnie, what's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing," Ronnie said quickly, pulling away from him and backing away towards the door. "It's late. I'll see you guys tomorrow." And wishing them a good night, she turned and fled.  
  
"What happened?" Freddie asked eagerly, turning around. "I didn't get to see anything."  
  
John turned a crestfallen face to his bandmates. "What did I do wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," Brian assured him.  
  
"You were perfect, Deaky," Roger agreed, before adding in wonder, "Wouldn't you know it that the moment you stop being afraid to touch her, she's afraid to touch you?"   
  
"Am I suffocating her?" John asked quietly.  
  
"Of course not, darling," Freddie said firmly.  
  
Seeing John's distress, Brian was quick to add, "I don't think this has anything to do with you, John. I think there's more going on with Ronnie than meets the eye. Let's just watch out for her for now, and intervene if necessary."  
  
"So it's my turn now?" Roger asked hopefully.  
  
"What do you mean, darling?" Freddie asked.  
  
"What I mean is you and Brian each got a chance to help Deaky," Roger responded. "I have some ideas of my own for ODD."  
  
Brian sighed. "Why not?"  
  
"And the best part is," Roger said, turning to John. "You don't have to do anything, Deaky."  
  
\---  
  
 **Operation Dating Deaky, Night Five**  
 **Roger's Approach: Don't Try So Hard**  
  
The next evening, Roger left the farmhouse to run an errand, and returned at approximately five thirty to find Freddie and Brian waiting for him at the kitchen table.  
  
"Well?" Brian said curiously. "What's your plan?"  
  
Roger pulled two tickets out of his jacket pocket. "Tickets to see The Who next month."  
  
"Wonderful, darling!" Freddie grinned. "And you're going to take _me_?"  
  
" _We're_ not going," Roger said in a low voice as he explained his plan. "I'm going to sit Ronnie and Deaky down with me and I'm going to give them these tickets and insist they go together." He brightened. "It'll be like a concert re-do!"  
  
Brian and Freddie exchanged worried glances, thinking the same thing: would they want to re-live the concert disaster?  
  
"I'll link their fingers if I have to," Roger added.  
  
"Well, you picked the perfect band," Brian admitted. "Isn't John Entwistle one of Deaky's favorite bass players?"  
  
"Yes," Roger said proudly. "Speaking of which, where is he?"  
  
"I believe he's drowning in his own self doubts in the living room," Freddie said sadly.  
  
"Perfect," Roger said eagerly.  The living room was exactly where he wanted him to be.  
  
Brian raised his eyebrows, and Freddie grinned and said, "Yes, I'm sure if you'd care to join him, he'd love some company."  
  
Roger ran up the stairs and knocked loudly on Ronnie's door. He shouted through the door that she was needed in the living room and without bothering to wait for an answer, ran back down the stairs to the kitchen, to get the tickets. When he entered the living room, Ronnie was already standing beside the couch, talking to John. Roger thought to himself how everything was already going according to plan.  
  
That is, until he tripped over something and fell directly into Ronnie.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie wearily dragged herself into the living room, rubbing her aching back and wondering what the boys were up to this time. When she saw John alone on the couch, she remembered their awkward dance from the night before and thought that she should really run away. But when John spotted her and offered her a smile, she knew she couldn't do that to him, and she approached the couch and propped one knee on it to support her back.   
  
They made awkward small talk about nothing, although Ronnie could see in John's eyes that he wanted to ask her if she was all right. Ronnie was about to open her mouth to say something else insignificant when she felt something hit her. She fell forward and, unable to save herself, fell on top of John.  
  
John's immediate concern was to protect Ronnie's belly from hitting anything, and he quickly reached out and caught her by the waist.  
  
Relieved, Ronnie had thanked him, and John had nodded, desperately trying not to blush and failing miserably. Wondering why he was so red, Ronnie glanced down and was horrified to find that she was not only on top of John, she was _straddling_ him, just like she had straddled Steve months before on the night she decided to become a whore.  
  
Embarrassed and painfully aware of how uncomfortable she was in her own skin, Ronnie apologized and scrambled off of John. Ignoring the fact that she had been calling into the living room for a reason, Ronnie ran out to the hall and up the stairs.  
  
Once Ronnie was safe, Roger had looked over his shoulder to see what had caused his fall. Fuming, he picked up one of Brian's white clogs, and turned to John with a face of thunder.  
  
"I'll kill him!"  
  
Roger had spitefully thrown the clog into the parlor - because if Brian was going to leave his things where they didn't belong then he didn't deserve to find them - and stormed into the hall. As he put the tickets back into his jacket pocket for safekeeping, he knuckles brushed against glossy paper and curious, he pulled the paper out. Stopping and staring at it, he saw that it was a pamphlet exclusively about adoption.  
  
"Didn't know you were planning on adopting, Roger?" Brian said, coming into the hall.  
  
"Me neither," Roger said slowly, forgetting about the incident with the clog. He could only think how he _never_ saved hospital pamphlets; he always gave them to either Ronnie or Brian, and he was certain he hadn't put this one in his pocket.   
  
But Ronnie had been wearing his jacket at the hospital that night and she had stopped by the brochure rack...  
  
Roger quickly jammed it back in his pocket. "Must have gotten mixed in with the rest of the pamphlets," he said with a shrug, and turned to go up the stairs and process what he had just learned.  
  
\---  
 **Operation Dating Deaky, Night Six**  
 **Roger's Approach: The Hell With It!  
**  
Roger had one more idea to contribute to ODD, but he had refused to tell John, Freddie, and Brian what it was ("It's because he doesn't know what it is yet," Brian had smirked).  
  
Even so, the following night, the band squeezed themselves onto Freddie's bed for a late game of Scrabble. Freddie had coaxed Ronnie out of her room, where she had been spending a lot of time lately, and timidly, she agreed to _one_ game.  
  
When she entered Freddie's room and saw how glad the band was to see her, she immediately felt guilty for spending so much time avoiding them. She accepted Roger's outstretched hands and allowed him to pull her onto the bed between him and John.  
  
Halfway into the game, something caught Roger's eye, and nudging Freddie, he said, "What's that on your closet door handle?"  
  
"Freddie, that's not a word," Brian pointed out, motioning to the board.  
  
"Says who?" Freddie exclaimed, before turning to Roger. "That old thing? It's a skirt, dear."  
  
"What do you have a skirt for?" John asked curiously, as Roger gave Freddie a bewildered look.  
  
Freddie frowned at them. "You mean to say you all _don't_ have skirts?"  
  
"Maybe Ronnie does," Roger commented.  
  
"Freddie, that's not a word, either!" Brian exclaimed.  
  
"It is now, darling," Freddie said with a grin, before turning back to Roger with a dramatic sigh. "If you must know, darling, it's for you."  
  
"Excuse me?" Roger said in surprise.  
  
"Well, we must fiercely protect Ronnie," Freddie explained, "Which means someone is going to have to start dressing in drag to take her to the restroom."  
  
Roger seemed to actually consider this, before he gave Freddie a suspicious look. "You're joking."  
  
"Obviously, darling."  
  
"Well, that would have never worked anyway," Brian said reasonably. "With those blonde locks, all those cads would be after Roger, instead."  
  
Roger nodded in agreement. "I'd make a very pretty girl."  
  
"Then I hereby christen thee as Rogerina," Freddie said formally and Roger grinned at Ronnie, quite pleased.  
  
Ronnie grinned, too, finding that she _was_ having a good time, although she still couldn't look John in the eye. But when John won the entire game, much to the rest of the band's surprise, she couldn't help but feel happy for him and she gave him a congratulatory shove with her shoulder.  
  
As the band fell into light conversation, Roger busied himself at the Scrabble board, and after he pulled his hands back, Ronnie tilted her head to see what he had spelled out.  
  
 _Deaky and Ronnie._  
  
Catching her breath, Ronnie stared at it for a moment and before she could stop herself, she looked over at John, who looked just as shocked as she did.   
  
And suddenly, everything made sense to her. All of the strange things that had been happening that week, and all of the encounters with John - none of that had been by pure chance. It had all been on purpose, hadn't it?  
  
Trying to ignore the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, Ronnie slid off the bed and said goodnight to the band.  
  
Once she had closed the door behind her, John left the bed, wandered over to the window, and leaned his forehead against the window frame.  
  
"That was real subtle, Roger," Brian said sarcastically.  
  
"Well, she literally needed it spelled out for her!" Roger said defensively.  
  
"Deaky, it's all right," Freddie said over his shoulder.  
  
John turned back to the band and took a deep breath. "I..."  
  
Freddie and Brian waited patiently but anxiously, hoping he wasn't about to give up after the stunt Roger had just pulled.  
  
"I really appreciate everything you've done to help me," John said quietly. "But...I think this is something I have to do on my own."  
  
"You mean to say you're going to win Ronnie by yourself?" Freddie asked, impressed.  
  
Nervous but determined, John nodded.  
  
Freddie turned to Brian and Roger. "I'm so proud of him."   
  
Brian nodded in agreement, and Roger reached into his pocket and offered something to John.  
  
"What's this?" John asked.  
  
"Tickets to see The Who," Roger said. "Take her."  
  
John looked doubtful, and they all knew he was thinking about the disaster that was the Zeppelin concert.  
  
"It's highly unlikely it'll happen again, right?" Roger pointed out.  
  
"And besides, Ronnie will love it," Brian said, nodding in agreement.  
  
Freddie nodded. "She has rock and roll in her soul."  
  
"And Entwistle awaits," Roger added.  
  
John held the tickets to his heart. "Thank you," he said gratefully.  
  
"But I'd love to find what's bothering her in the meantime," Brian said as he pulled The Obstetrics Handbook out of his pocket.  
  
Roger squirmed uncomfortably and Brian glanced at him curiously as he turned the pages, before finding what he was looking for and muttering, "Chapter twelve...antepartum depression."  
  
"You think that's what's wrong?" Freddie asked curiously.  
  
"I don't know what else it could be," Brian confessed. "But Ronnie clearly hasn't been herself lately."   
  
As Roger refused to look at anyone, Brian remembered the adoption pamphlet from the day before and how at the time, he had thought it very strange that Roger had it in his possession. Yes, it was true that Roger said it had gotten mixed in with the other pamphlets, but he had seen Roger at the brochure rack, and he often carefully _hand selected_ what he thought was most relevant to Ronnie's situation. And he wouldn't have picked the adoption pamphlet willingly.  
  
"It's not yours, is it?" Brian asked Roger quietly.  
  
"What?" Roger asked.  
  
"The adoption pamphlet."  
  
John sat back on the bed. "Adoption pamphlet?" he whispered.  
  
Roger sighed. "No," he admitted, actually relieved Brian had discovered the source of his discomfort. "I think Ronnie left it in my jacket pocket. And I was going to tell you all you but..." He shrugged.

"Rog is right," Freddie said agreeably.  "It's her business and it's her decision, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Brian agreed. "But Ronnie is one of the kindest souls I know. And if I know her like I think I do, then she is going to regret this decision somewhere down the road. And I don't want that for her."  
  
The band was silent as they all considered this. Finally, Freddie asked, "So what do we do?"  
  
"She won't like it," Brian said grimly, "but I think we're going to need to talk to her in the morning."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else heard The Millionaire Waltz? Had to reference it - it's one of my favorite Queen songs ever :) 
> 
> If you've gotten this far - can't tell you how much I appreciate that you're still reading!


	16. Chapter 16

The following morning, the band sat uncomfortably at the kitchen table as they waited for Ronnie to come downstairs. None of them wanted to have this conversation with her.  
  
"I think that first," Brian said, "we should try to broach the topic of the adoption pamphlet as gently as possible. Perhaps just hint at it and perhaps she'll tell us herself."  
  
Freddie nodded. "Good idea, darling. That way, she won't feel like we're trying to be her parents."  
  
"What if she doesn't come downstairs?" John asked quietly.  
  
They didn't need to worry about that for long because, shortly after, they heard Ronnie's footsteps on the stairs. Brian looked relieved, but then an unexpected thought hit him out of nowhere and he groaned. "Why didn't we make her breakfast? That would have sweetened up this conversation!"  
  
The band looked wildly at each other.  
  
"Roger, quick, start the stove!" Brian hissed.  
  
Roger turned to John and batted his eyelashes. "Show me how to start the stove, Deaky?"  
  
But Ronnie was about to enter the kitchen, so Freddie whispered loudly for everyone to act naturally, and then they waited.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie knew there was going to be a confrontation the moment she reached the top of the stairs. And if she knew what was best for her, she would have turned around and gone straight back to bed - Lord knows she could use the sleep, after another nightmare - but she had skipped dinner the night before and she was starving and she would face emotional discomfort if it meant she could eat something.  
  
When she turned the corner into the kitchen, she wasn't surprised to see the band already at the table, but she was a bit surprised to see how silent they were and how unnaturally they were acting. Brian was flipping through The Obstetrics Handbook as if his life depended on it, and John was hidden behind the folds of a newspaper. Roger was cleaning the table, rubbing at the same spot continuously, and Freddie had taken off a shoe and was inspecting his toenails ("Am I bleeding?" he asked, turning to Brian).  
  
It was at that point that Ronnie questioned if she did want breakfast and was about turn to go back upstairs, when the band all looked up at her and gave her identical shit-eating grins and chorused together, "Good morning Ronnie!"  
  
She watched as the smiles slid off their faces one by one and knew they were taking in her exhausted expression, the bags under her eyes, the fear that was likely still lingering on her face because _damn Steve for making her so afraid and giving her hell while she was trying to sleep...  
_  
Freddie jumped up from the table, took her hand, and sat her down in the chair next to him. "Tea, darling?"  
  
"Yes please," Ronnie said, and allowed Freddie to pour her a cup from the pot on the table. She then took an entire handful of sugar cubes and tossed them in her cup, ignoring the band's alarmed expressions. Sugar for breakfast? Why the hell not.  
  
"Would you like some tea to go with your sugar?" Roger asked politely.  
  
"No thanks," Ronnie said with a smile.  
  
As Brian closed The Obstetrics Handbook, he thought to himself how he hadn't been expecting Ronnie to look so terrible, and he was seriously considering putting off the adoption discussion for another day. He turned to Roger with raised eyebrows, to see if he had the same impression, but Roger took that as a sign to start the conversation.  
  
"I can't wait to have kids one day," he said dreamily.  
  
Brian gave him a look. He couldn't even imagine Roger settling down, let alone having kids. But then he realized that Roger was merely following his instructions and dropping hints.  
  
Freddie turned to John. "Deaky, you want ten kids, don't you?"  
  
John jumped, not expecting this. "Erm..."  
  
"What's the matter, Deaky, did Freddie pinch you in the arse?" Roger asked with a grin.  
  
"We're so excited for you, Ronnie," Brian said sincerely. "And even though it's been a rather rocky road, you must be getting a little bit excited, too?"  
  
"Little babies _are_ rather adorable..." Roger said, but trailed off when he saw the look on Ronnie's face.  
  
She had folded her arms and fixed them all with a suspicious look. "Spit it out."  
  
"Whatever do you mean?" Freddie asked, feigning shock.  
  
She gave them a sad smile. "You forget that I _know_ you guys. You're beating around the bush. What is it you really want to say?"  
  
Sighing, Brian looked at Roger and nodded. Looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, Roger slowly pulled something out of his pocket and placed it in the center of the table.  
  
Ronnie inhaled sharply. She had been expecting them to approach her about her strange behavior, but she hadn't been expecting to see the adoption pamphlet staring back at her.  
  
And now the band was staring at her too, waiting for her to claim it.  
  
"Did you forget to include that one with the rest of the hospital pamphlets, Rog?" Ronnie said lightly.  
  
Roger shook his head sadly although she could tell he wanted to play along with her and spare her any discomfort. It was Freddie who reached over, took her hand, and said gently, "I think you forgot to take it out of Roger's jacket pocket, darling."  
  
Ronnie looked down at her cup of sugar tea. Could she be any more _stupid_? How could she not have remembered that she had left it there?  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said softly. "Is it true? Are you planning on putting the baby up for adoption?"  
  
Ronnie looked out the window, wishing she was out in the lovely fall sunshine, instead of in this dark conversation on a one way ticket to heartbreak.  
  
"I was thinking about it, yes," she replied.  
  
"I took you to see the babies at the hospital so you'd like your own," Roger pointed out, "not want to give it away."  
  
Brian got up and circled the table. Ronnie turned in her seat to face him as he knelt down before her.  
  
"Ronnie," he said gently, taking her face in his hands. "I don't know that you _can_ put the baby up for adoption."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ronnie whispered, eyes wide.  
  
Brian pressed his thumbs against the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. He didn't want to say what he was about to say, but the thought had occurred to him late the night before and it was perfectly logical.  
  
"If you put the child up for adoption," he said slowly. "Then who is going to protect it from Steve?"  
  
"The adoptive parents," she muttered defiantly.  
  
Brian shook his head. "Ronnie, you know they wouldn't be able to. And you know that we have to face the fact that it's been a month and Steve is still out there. He's shown us how unstable he is and how he'll stop at nothing to get what he wants. If you let that child go out into the world, it's very possible he'll find it."  
  
Ronnie was shaking her head.  
  
"The only person who can protect this child from Steve is _you_ ," Brian said emphatically, before thinking about it and adding, "Us. All of us."  
  
Ronnie, blinking back angry tears, knew that Brian was likely right. But lack of sleep and cold fear and continuous despair had been gnawing at her for much too long, and her rational mind was quickly overpowered by her volatile hormones, and the only thing she could think of was that they were taking away her last hope and how _dare_ they...  
  
"I don't _want_ it," she said bluntly.  
  
"Ronnie, darling, you don't mean that..." Freddie said in a soothing voice.  
  
"Yes, I do," Ronnie said firmly.  
  
"Ronnie, why?" John asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he stretched his hand out on the table towards her.  
  
Ronnie turned to him and he recoiled slightly from the sheer force of the emotion in her face. "Because it's Steve's."  
  
"But it's yours too," John reminded her, as his hand finally arrived at hers. He gently linked their pinky fingers.  
  
Ronnie was so distraught that she didn't entirely notice.  
  
"I don't want to raise a child alone," she said, her throat burning from the effort of trying not to cry.  
  
"But you won't be alone," Brian insisted. "You'll never be alone. We'll be there to help you."  
  
"That's not true!" Ronnie exclaimed, as she tore her pinky away from John, flung Brian's hands away from her, and scrambled off of the chair. Before she could reach the doorway, John - always the one to encourage them to solve their problems and curb their arguments - had blocked it. He was so fast that she didn't realize he was there until she ran right into his arms.  
  
Ronnie flinched away from him and turned back to the table. She tried to ignore Freddie's concerned expression, and the shock on Roger's face, and how _hurt_ Brian looked, still kneeling on the floor...  
  
"Before we let you go," Freddie said carefully. "Tell us what you meant when you said you didn't think it was true that we'd be there to help you."  
  
"Do you guys have an idea how incredible you are?" Ronnie asked, looking at each of them in turn. "Do you have any clue how amazing Queen is, and how famous you are all going to be?"  
  
"You really think so?" Freddie whispered, leaning forward, and Brian gave him an incredulous look. They weren't there to talk about how great the band was, they were there to help Ronnie...  
  
"Yes," Ronnie said, exasperated. "Which means you'll be too busy to help me. You're all going to be so absorbed with recording and touring and promoting and interviews and..." Ronnie felt a tear roll down her face. "...and I want to be with you all when that happens."  
  
"Ronnie, you will be," John said earnestly from the doorway.  
  
"You'll always be involved, darling," Freddie added. "We wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
"And just because Queen _may_ take off one day," Brian said, standing up, "doesn't mean that we can't help you take care of the child."  
  
"You don't understand!" Ronnie protested.  
  
"What did you put in her tea Freddie?" Roger said nervously.  
  
"You might be able to help me for a little while," Ronnie continued, her voice shaking. "But eventually, you are all going to get married. And you're going to have kids of your own. And then you won't be able to help me at _all_."  
  
"That doesn't mean that we're not going to be there for you, Ronnie!" Brian said vehemently. "And besides, when that time does come, you'll likely be married yourself."  
  
"No one is _ever_ going to want to marry me!" Ronnie burst out. "Tell me about a man in his right mind who is going to want someone else's kid and a wife who can't keep her legs closed?"  
  
John had opened his mouth, clearly wanting to say something. Freddie nodded at him encouragingly.   
  
"Stop it, Ronnie!" Roger said, clearly upset. "Stop saying that about yourself! It was _one_ time. That moment does not _define_ you!"  
  
Ronnie looked down at the floor. Freddie nodded at John once more, this time more forcefully.  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said steadily. "How can we help you become excited about the baby?"  
  
"You can't," Ronnie said simply.  
  
"Something else is wrong," Brian said suddenly. "We know you're distressed about your situation and your history with Steve, but that's nothing new. You haven't been yourself all week."  
  
"Did something happen, darling?" Freddie asked, worried.  
  
Ronnie looked at the ceiling, hoping the tears would stay contained, but to her dismay, they ran down her face anyway. How could she tell them about how she dreaded going to sleep at night because it meant she'd meet Steve in her dreams? How she couldn't even stand to look at herself naked in a mirror because all she could see were her imperfections? How she was wishing away the next eighteen years of her life, because that meant the child would be grown and she'd be free of it?  
  
And how suddenly afraid she was of intimacy and that's why she couldn't bring herself to be too close to John?  
  
But instead of saying all that, she said darkly, "I pulled on a pair of jeans and ripped a hole in the crotch because I'm getting _fatter_ every day!" And not wanting to outwardly cry in front of the band _again_ , she turned for the doorway. But before she could push past him, John caught her by the arms.  
  
Ronnie stared up at him and could see he so clearly wanted to tell her something. But she was very quickly losing her composure, and with pleading eyes, she whispered to him, " _Please_ , Deaky. Let me go."  
  
John pulled his hands away as if he'd been burned, and it was only as she was rushing away that she realized it was too similar to what she had said to him on the night of the Zeppelin concert.  
  
As the band listened to the front door slam shut, John dropped his head into his hands.  
  
"Deaky!" Roger said anxiously. "Go out there right now and marry her on the spot!"  
  
Freddie was massaging his temples. "Well, we're up shit creek without a paddle, darlings."  
  
"Our first fight with Ronnie," Roger said miserably.  
  
"Well, there was the diner and the loaf of bread..." Freddie pointed out.  
  
"That wasn't our fault," Roger argued. "She was fighting with Ratty, not us."  
  
"And she forgave Ratty," Brian said, determined. "She'll forgive us, too."  
  
"But we did nothing wrong," Roger said stubbornly. "We were only trying to help."  
  
"I honestly think Ronnie is suffering from some kind of post traumatic stress disorder," Brian admitted.  
  
"You think so, dear?" Freddie asked.  
  
"I don't think she's been sleeping," Brian professed. "Didn't you say something about nightmares, Freddie?"  
  
"I didn't know she was still having them," Freddie said sadly. He then turned to John, to ask him what he had been planning to say to Ronnie, but John was gone.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie practically flew down the porch steps, though she knew she had nowhere to go. Besides, she had already tried to run away once and that hadn't worked. All she could think was how much it hurt her to hurt the band and she couldn't face them after the conversation they just had, not without putting a bit of space between them first.  
  
She stopped abruptly when she saw a third car in the driveway. Usually it was only Brian's van and Roger's car and they hadn't been expecting visitors, had they? Her first thought was of Steve but when she saw Ratty get out of the driver's seat, she raced to him.  
  
Ratty opened his arms and Ronnie ran into him like a freight train, nearly knocking him back into the car.  
  
"It's nice to see you, too," Ratty said, grinning, as he wrapped her in a bear hug.  
  
"Ratty!" Ronnie sobbed. "Take me home!"  
  
"What?" Ratty asked in surprise, then pretended to be disappointed. "And here I thought those tears were just because you missed me so much."  
  
"I _do_ miss you," Ronnie said into his shoulder. "And I _am_ glad to see you. But I need you to take me home, please."  
  
Ratty raised his eyes and saw John on the porch, leaning against a wooden post. He wondered why he looked so heartbroken. What in the hell had happened and how had he managed to arrive at such a miserable time?  
  
Pulling back so he could look Ronnie in the eye, he said carefully, "Ronnie, you know I can't. You know that descended testicle named Steve hasn't been caught."  
  
Ronnie sighed, before looking up at Ratty once more. "Take me somewhere then?"  
  
"Where do you want to go?"  
  
"I want ice cream," Ronnie said pitifully.  
  
Ratty looked meaningfully at the porch. "Should we take John, too?"  
  
"Is he on the porch?" Ronnie asked, dreading the answer.  
  
In answer, Ratty raised an arm and waved at him.  
  
"I can't face any of them right now," Ronnie whispered.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I'll tell you about it over ice cream," Ronnie offered.  
  
Finally, Ratty nodded. "Stay here," he said. "I need to at least tell them that I'm taking you somewhere so they don't worry."  
  
Ronnie nodded and got into the passenger seat of Ratty's car, so he wouldn't change his mind.  
  
\---  
  
As Ratty approached the porch and mounted the steps, John stepped forward. "Thank you for coming," he said to Ratty.  
  
Ratty nodded. When he had gotten the call from the band asking him to come, because it would probably do Ronnie good to see him, he hadn't hesitated. "What the hell happened?" he asked John in a low voice.  
  
But John looked so miserable that Ratty found himself pulling the bassist in for a one-armed hug.  
  
"She's so...unhappy," John said thickly.  
  
"I told you she was going to be unmanageable," Ratty pointed out, trying to make John laugh, but when he pulled back, he was alarmed to see tears in John's eyes.  
  
"You want to know what you need?" Ratty said suddenly. "Ice cream. Come with Ronnie and me."  
  
John shook his head immediately. "No. No, no. You two go. Just...please bring her back to us."  
  
"I won't kidnap her," Ratty promised. "I, unlike others who we shall not name, am not a manky arsehole." He then coughed and muttered, "Steve."  
  
\---  
  
"So?" Ratty asked, twenty minutes later, as he and Ronnie sat on a picnic table.  
  
"Yes?" Ronnie asked, as ice cream ran between her fingers. It was unnaturally hot for October.  
  
"I bought you ice cream," Ratty said firmly. "Now you need to hold up your end of the bargain and tell me what happened."  
  
Ronnie had been planning on giving Ratty a short and sweet version of that morning's events, but instead, she found herself giving him a full account, along with hand gestures and actual quotes.  
  
"And so I told them nobody would ever want to marry me anyway," Ronnie said.  
  
"So Deaky still hasn't proposed, huh?" Ratty said casually.  
  
"Oh, shut up," Ronnie said tersely. "Not you, too!"  
  
"What do you mean?" Ratty asked innocently.  
  
"I think the rest of the band is trying to set us up," Ronnie confided. "It's been a rather...interesting week."  
  
Ratty asked in what way, and Ronnie was forced to tell him about every single evening. At the part with the bass solo, Ratty flung back his head and laughed.  
  
"It's not funny!" Ronnie exclaimed. "It was terrifying!"  
  
"My God, you can be a daft duck," Ratty said, shaking his head. "It really took you a pair of leather pants, an electrifying bass solo, and a dance in the dark to realize what we've all known forever?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"And Roger even had to spell it out for you on a Scrabble board - "  
  
"What have you known forever?" Ronnie asked curiously.  
  
"That he's arse over tea kettle in love with you!" Ratty declared.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Ratty, that's not true..."  
  
"Oh, it's not?" Ratty said, pretending to be shocked. "Well, what about the Zeppelin concert? Wasn't that a date?"  
  
Ronnie sighed. "I don't know."  
  
"I saw you wrap your arms around him and kiss him on the cheek," Ratty reminded her.  
  
"I was thanking him," Ronnie said reasonably.  
  
"You never thank _me_ that way," Ratty said and in spite of everything, Ronnie grinned.  
  
"You must feel _something_ for him," Ratty insisted, and Ronnie shoved the rest of her ice cream cone in her mouth and hoisted herself off of the picnic table.  
  
"I see what you just did there!" Ratty complained, following her to the car. "You're avoiding the subject."  
  
Ronnie smiled. Who needed girlfriends when she had Ratty?  
  
But on the ride back to the farmhouse, Ratty turned to her with a serious expression. "But Ronnie?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Just please don't..." Ratty looked back at the road. "Don't hurt Deaky."  
  
"I think it's too late for that," Ronnie said bitterly.  
  
"I don't mean the concert," Ratty replied. "That's in the past. I mean, don't hurt him again."  
  
If anyone else had said that to her, she probably would have been insulted. But it was Ratty and she understood what he was trying to say. She nodded and leaned her head against the window.  
  
\---  
Ronnie was trying to delay their return to the farmhouse, so she convinced Ratty to drive around the countryside looking for sheep. Eventually, they discovered a few flocks of sheep and a couple of cows, but when they encountered a rather scary looking bird, Ratty had enough.  
  
"Oh how nice, a fucking pterodactyl," he exclaimed, and then promptly turned the car around and headed back to the farmhouse.  
  
Ronnie managed to make it out of the car and all the way to the porch, before she lowered herself onto the steps. "I'm not ready," she said to Ratty. "You go ahead."  
  
Giving her a _you're going to have to face them sooner or later_ look, Ratty nodded and disappeared into the house.  
  
Ronnie wasn't surprised when five minutes later, she felt someone sit down beside her on the steps. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a mane of curly brown hair, and knew it was Brian.  
  
He took her hand and folded her fingers over the adoption pamphlet. She looked up at him in surprise.  
  
"It really is _your_ decision," Brian said gently. "And whatever you decide, we _will_ support you one hundred percent."  
  
Shocked, Ronnie stared at him for a few moments, before giving him a giant hug. "Thank you, Brian," she whispered. "I'm so sorry for the way I reacted."  
  
Brian hugged her tighter, feeling slightly guilty. They were letting her decide but he was sure that didn't mean they weren't going to try to subtly convince her otherwise along the way. "You don't need to be sorry. But please know that we didn't mean to put you under pressure."  
  
Pulling away, Ronnie shook her head. "Friends will be friends, right? I'm lucky to have you guys."  
  
That made Brian smile and sensing another presence, Ronnie turned and saw John in the doorway.  
  
"Ronnie?" he said timidly, and Ronnie gave him her full attention.  
  
John was clearly nervous, but he forced himself to look directly at Ronnie. "W-what if...what if _we_ adopted the baby?"  
  
"We, or _you_?" Roger asked with a grin as he came down the staircase in the hall.  
  
Brian sighed and looked out at the cars in the driveway. If they continued to tease Deaky mercilessly, he'd never get up the nerve to say the things he wanted to say to Ronnie.  
  
Ronnie stood up, shoving the adoption pamphlet into her back pocket.  
  
"That's really sweet, Deaky," she said. "But like I said before...you're all going to have your own kids some day."  
  
Stopping in the doorway on her way into the house, Ronnie kissed John on the cheek. As she walked away, John brought his fingers up to his cheek in wonder.  
  
Still on the porch, Brian and John heard Freddie politely inviting Ronnie to go shopping again, since she was ripping holes in her pants and all, and Ronnie assuring him she'd be fine.  
  
Brian put a hand on John's shoulder. "Was it really your intention to ask Ronnie if the band could adopt the baby?" he asked kindly.  
  
John shook his head. "No, I meant...I meant myself. But she didn't understand."  
  
"I think that's because you said _we_. If you had said you wanted to adopt it, I'm sure she would have understood."  
  
John sighed and Brian put an arm around him and steered him into the house. "There's always next time."  
  
\---  
  
The band and Ronnie had a phenomenal time with Ratty while he stayed with them and Ronnie was sorry when after two nights, Ratty said he had to go back home. The evening he left, he gave her a hug, money for ice cream, and a gentle reminder to let the band help her. She stood on the porch and watched as he pulled out of the driveway and drove down the dusty road. Then she sat on the porch steps, feeling a tad empty.  
  
Eventually the full moon rose into the sky and Ronnie felt a weight next to her. Turning, she saw Roger had taken a seat next to her.  
  
He grinned at her. "Probably not a good idea to sit outside in the dark on All Hallows' Eve."  
  
Surprised, Ronnie furrowed her brow. "I completely forgot it was Halloween. No wonder Ratty left today."  
  
Roger nodded. "He probably had to get back for some crazy party."  
  
Ronnie smiled, absent-minded, and stared back out into the darkness.   
  
After a few moments, she felt Roger nudge her. "How about a scary movie?"  
  
Ronnie turned back to him with raised eyebrows.  
  
"You really can't spend Halloween any other way," Roger pointed out, as he stood up and offered her his hand. "I mean, I know we won't be having as much fun as Ratty but..."  
  
Taking his hand, Ronnie laughed. "I don't want to have as much fun as Ratty. What are we watching?"  
  
\---  
  
Not long after, Ronnie sat in the dark in the living room with Roger, Brian, Freddie, and John. They had decided on _Frankenstein_ \- classic but still creepy - and Ronnie sat between John and Roger with her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes glued to the television.  
  
Over on the loveseat, Freddie jumped at something on the screen.  
  
"There, there, Fred," Brian said cheerfully, patting his shoulder. "No need to be afraid."  
  
"Nonsense, darling," Freddie said, waving a hand. "I don't believe in Frankenstein. Nor Peter Pan or Superman for that matter."  
  
"Well, you _should_ believe in Frankenstein because he's here with us," Roger said, jabbing a thumb at John, and John clamped a self conscious hand over the scar on his cheek.  
  
Ronnie, taking pity on John, reached over and pulled his hand away from his face. She ran a gentle thumb over the scar and informed him, "It looks so much better."  
  
John smiled at her gratefully.  
  
\---  
  
Late that night, the storm raged on and Ronnie tossed and turned in her bed, once more receiving an unwelcome visit from a nightmare. This one was the worst yet - not only had Steve caught her, but he had stuck his hands right through her skin and was quite literally pulling the baby out of her. And when the baby came out, it had Steve's face and a Frankenstein scar and -  
  
A loud crack of thunder woke Ronnie and she sat up, letting out a breath of fear. She ran her hands over her belly to make sure the baby was still in there and sighing in relief, leaned back on her hands and listened to the rain pelting the roof.  
  
Something hitting the window startled her and crawling out of bed, she gripped the windowsill and squinted outside into the darkness. She was still half asleep, it was possible that she just imagined it...  
  
Something hit the window panes again and with a cry of fear, Ronnie jumped away from the window, but not before a flash of lightning illuminated the grounds outside and she saw a figure in white running across the lawn.  
  
Terrified, Ronnie ran for Freddie's room, directly across from her own. But the door was wide open and there was no one there. Another roar of thunder sounded, this one actually shaking the house, and lightning lit the entire hallway, and Ronnie ran for the next room. She knocked quickly on Brian's door.  
  
Brian, very much still awake, opened the door and when he saw Ronnie, he instantly put his hands on her shoulders. She knew he was thinking that this is exactly how the night had started when she had been bleeding and they had to go to the hospital. "What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
Ronnie gripped Brian's wrists. "There's someone outside, Brian," she whispered urgently. "Something hit the window _twice_ and then there was lightning and I saw someone running in the yard..." Shivering, she turned to look over her shoulder, as if she expected Steve to be standing at the top of the stairs.  
  
Trying to hide his alarm, Brian put a comforting arm around her, pulled her into the room, and shut the door. "It's all right," he said, leading Ronnie to the bed and sitting her down on it. "I'm sure it was the branch of a tree tapping your window."  
  
"There's no trees near my window," Ronnie said softly. "And that doesn't explain what I saw."  
  
Brian sat next to her and took her cold hands. "Did you have a nightmare?"  
  
"Yes," Ronnie admitted.  
  
"Ronnie, you're safe here," Brian said gently, as he helped her move further onto the bed, so that she was in the middle, against the pillows. "We're in the middle of a terrible thunderstorm and the wind likely blew something against your window."  
  
"But I saw - "  
  
"It's All Hallows' Eve," Brian reminded her. "It was probably a teenager on a dare." His voice went a bit higher as he imitated a teenager's voice: "Oh let's go visit the old farmhouse, it'll be so scary!"  
  
Ronnie laughed but it quickly turned into a groan. "I'm so tired."  
  
"What you need is a good night's sleep," Brian said, as another boom of thunder echoed through the house, and Ronnie jumped.  
  
"Can you buy those at a store?" Ronnie asked wearily and Brian laughed.  
  
There was a loud knock at the door and Brian shouted, "Come in!"  
  
Roger poked his head around the door, before coming into the room.  
  
"Some storm," he commented casually.  
  
Brian patted the bed next to him. "I can comfort you, too, Roger. If you're scared, that is."  
  
Roger scowled. "I'm here because _you_ are the one who clearly needs to be comforted, Bri." But he climbed onto the bed anyway.  
  
Ronnie turned to Roger and offered him a smile. A flash of lightning showed her his worried expression.  
  
"Ronnie saw someone outside," Brian said in explanation.  
  
"Oh," Roger said, not surprised. "Was it the ghost?"  
  
"What ghost?" Ronnie asked.  
  
"This house is _not_ haunted," Brian said firmly.  
  
"On Halloween it is," Roger retorted.  
  
"Well then it's haunted by fools," Brian said tersely, "not ghosts."  
  
Freddie wandered in through the open door.  
  
"Are you frightened, too, Fred?" Brian inquired.  
  
"No," Freddie said with a grin as he gracefully dropped onto the foot of the bed. "I'm too drunk to sleep alone."  
  
"You had one drink, Freddie," Roger said plainly.  
  
John was only a few seconds behind Freddie.  
  
"And I'm here f-for the conversation," he said, though he was glancing worriedly at Ronnie, who was now on her knees on the bed, staring out the window at the storm.   
Roger joined her at the window, and Brian shook his head. They looked like two young children waiting for Santa Clause. And he knew they were searching for the figure in white.  
  
Brian slid off the bed to close the bedroom door and took his time, so that John would have the opportunity to take his spot next to Ronnie.  
  
Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by a very sharp flash of lightning.  
  
"Thunderbolts and lightning," Freddie muttered to himself. "Thunderbolts and lightning..."  
  
"Well, this should be cozy," Brian said, observing his very full bed.  
  
"If you say so," Roger said doubtfully, as lightning lit up the sky. He grabbed Ronnie's arm and pointed. "There! There's something in white!"  
  
Ronnie squinted, before shaking her head. "That's your car, Roger."  
  
"Thunderbolts and lightning," Freddie whispered, still not paying attention. "Very, very frightening me."  
  
As the night grew late, and the storm stayed strong as ever, Brian gave up his bed and made himself a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor. Ronnie, John, Freddie, and Roger made themselves as comfortable as they could on Brian's bed.   
  
Eventually, Ronnie fell asleep, her arms folded over her belly. She shifted slightly and in sleep, rested her head on John's shoulder.  
  
From Ronnie's other side, Roger said, "So Deaky, we didn't know you wanted to adopt Ronnie's child."  
  
"You're skipping the dating part and going right to babies, darling?" Freddie asked with a smile.  
  
John was glad it was dark, so they couldn't see how red he was turning. "I don't know what I was thinking."  
  
"What?" Freddie exclaimed softly. "No, darling, it's a wonderful idea!"  
  
"But you should probably take her out on a date before you try to claim her child," Roger whispered. "So you don't, you know, scare her."   
  
Filled with disappointment at his own failed attempts and filled with concern for Ronnie's well-being, John reached over her and found her hand. Gently, he linked their fingers, realizing he only felt brave enough to do it because she was sleeping.  
  
Very slowly, John felt her squeeze his hand back, and he felt himself blush horribly as he prayed that she was only responding in sleep, and that she didn't hear anything they had just said.


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning, John opened one eye and took a deep breath. When he found himself inhaling hair, he recoiled slightly and glancing down, saw that Ronnie was pressed against him, because Roger had decided to thrust his arse into the middle of the bed.  
  
With his heart hammering in his chest, John stayed perfectly still, because he was afraid of disturbing her when she seemed so at peace and because he didn't want the moment to end. But he couldn't help but smile when he saw Ronnie sleepily lift a leg and push Roger back to his side of the bed with her foot, before rolling onto her back and sighing deeply.  
  
As he watched her sleep, John found himself thinking...what if _he_ could be the one to solve all of her problems? She didn't think anyone would ever marry her, but what she didn't realize is that he would marry her in a heartbeat. She didn't want to raise the child by herself, but what she didn't know is that he would gladly raise it as his own. She questioned her self-worth because of one night, but what she didn't understand is that she was worth _everything_ to him. If only he could make her see...  
  
But it all had to begin with a date, and John knew that today was the day he had to ask Ronnie out.  
  
\---  
  
That was how John found himself nervously pacing around the old farmhouse for the majority of the morning, hoping to run into Ronnie and trying to find the perfect opportunity to ask her to go to the concert with him. But he never managed to bump into her and he was almost relieved when Brian announced that they were sorely in need of a trip to the market.  
  
Apparently everyone was suffering from cabin fever and so Ronnie and all four band members piled into Brian's van and drove the half hour to the nearest market.  
  
Once inside, Ronnie found herself immediately drawn to the ice cream section, but while admiring the many variety of flavors, she found herself staring back at her own reflection in the freezer window. She sighed in disappointment as she noted that she was at the point that she could no longer hide her condition, and it was quite obvious, and...  
  
And then someone walked into her and she found herself falling sideways.  
  
\---  
  
Roger had picked up a banana from the shopping cart, and was just about to turn to Freddie to make a dirty joke, when he noticed John wandering towards Ronnie. Only, John didn't seem to realize he was heading directly towards her, likely thinking she was still walking in front of him, and Ronnie was staring much too intensely at the ice cream to notice.  
  
"Deaky's awfully distracted today, isn't he?" Roger mused.  
  
"Should we warn him that he's about to bump into Ronnie?" Freddie asked, as they stood back and observed their friends.  
  
"Nah," Roger said. "It's sort of fun to watch them fall on top of each other every day."  
  
"Let's just say it's for their own good," Freddie decided. "An exercise in intimacy. So we don't sound heartless, darling."  
  
Roger nodded and as John walked into Ronnie, he tossed the banana back into the cart, the joke completely forgotten.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie reached out and grasped at the door handle to the ice cream freezer, but missed it by inches. She had just squeezed her eyes shut, accepting the fact that she was about to make hard contact with the floor and likely break a hip, when she felt someone catch her at the last moment and very gently, lower her to the ground.  
  
Opening her eyes, Ronnie saw that the reason for her fall was also the reason she was safe - poor John, who was kneeling on the ground, was still holding her and looking extremely nervous. Dumbfounded, Ronnie sat on the floor and stared back at him.  
  
\---  
  
"Should we help him?" Roger asked Freddie nervously. "He looks like he's going to throw up on her."  
  
"No," Freddie said, as they huddled behind the shopping cart and watched with wide eyes. "You heard him the other night. He wants to do it by himself."  
  
"What are you both staring at?" Brian asked, as he came around the corner with an armful of vegetables.  
  
Freddie put a finger to his lips and whispered, "I think we're about to witness a miracle, darling."  
  
Brian took one look at Ronnie and John on the floor of the supermarket and dropping the vegetables into the cart, joined his bandmates.  
  
\---  
  
"Ronnie, I..." John cleared his throat slightly. It really probably wasn't the best moment to do this, but if he didn't do it now, he might never work up the nerve to do it.  
  
Ronnie, still very aware of John's arms around her waist, nodded slowly, motivating him to go on.  
  
"What are you doing on the night of the twenty-fourth?" John blurted out.  
  
Ronnie thought about it. "Sleeping?"  
  
"I have tickets to see The Who that night," John said nervously, "and I...I..."  
  
Ronnie, realizing how very tense John seemed, gave him a small, encouraging smile.  
  
John sighed, before asking timidly, "Will you go with me?"  
  
Ronnie gave him a doubtful look. "You'd really want to go to another concert with me after..." She trailed off and knew they were both thinking of the Zeppelin concert.  
  
"Y-yes, of course," John said sincerely.  
  
Ronnie beamed. "Then yes, I would love to go with you."  
  
"Really?" John asked hopefully.  
  
"Yes!" Ronnie exclaimed, unable to hide her excitement. "How much do I owe you for my ticket?"  
  
"Nothing," John said quickly, as relief took over his senses and he found himself smiling back. "You don't owe me anything."  
  
Ronnie opened and closed her mouth a few times. So was this a...  
  
John pulled her to a standing position. "I'll pick you up at seven at the front door?"  
  
Ronnie nodded, still taken aback. "That sounds perfect."   
  
"Great," John said. "It's a date." And the moment the words were out of his mouth, he blushed.  
  
Ronnie knew it was an expression that people used when making plans, but she couldn't help but wonder...  
  
... _was_ it going to be a date?  
  
Looking away, she saw Roger, Freddie, and Brian in various stages of high-fiving each other, but when they saw that she had noticed them, they all pretended to be very interested in the contents of their shopping cart.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie didn't sleep at all that night.   
  
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the figure in white dashing across the wet lawn, or thought of the ghost that Roger wouldn't stop mentioning, or imagined a nightmare pulling her under. Only when the sun rose the next morning did her heart stop pounding and dragging herself out of bed, she got ready for the day.  Assessing the damage in the bathroom mirror, she took note of her blood shot eyes, tired frown, and exhausted expression.  Deciding she didn't care enough to remedy any of those things, she trudged wearily through her day, yawning and counting down the minutes until she could try to sleep again.  
  
The band decided to use that evening to rehearse in the barn studio.  They had noticed how very tired Ronnie seemed and although they assured her they wouldn't be insulted if she went to bed early, Ronnie decided to join them anyway.  She had strongly been considering just going to bed but the figure in white and Roger's ghost and all of the skeletons in her closet convinced her otherwise.  
  
But as the evening wore on, she found it harder and harder to stay awake, and when she found herself nodding off in the chair at the studio control board, she knew she had to either give in and go back to the farmhouse, or find a way to stay awake.  She figured fresh air may be rejuvenating and assuring the band she'd be fine without them, she stepped outside.  
  
Ronnie was only able to feel safe by keeping the door wide open and staying close to the barn.  As the cold wind hit her face, she did feel more alert, but the safe feeling disappeared when she felt someone grab her from behind and clamp a hand over her mouth.  
  
Although she tried to fight, her captor had one arm clamped tightly over her arms ( _just like in the dreams_ , she thought) and was able to effectively steer her away from the barn studio and closer to the trees.

Ronnie wasn't sure if it was adrenaline or the fact that she had been afraid for much too long, but something inside her decided tonight would be a pretty good night to conquer her fears  _and_ the creep who was breathing into her ear, although she was sure she already knew who it was.  
  
Ronnie let her legs give way from underneath her, making her weight heavy and causing both her and her captor to sink to the ground. Then, she bit hard on the hand that was covering her mouth. As her captor swore and loosened his hold on her, she elbowed him in the chest and diving for the grass, began to crawl away as quickly as she could, ignoring the pain in her hands from where she had landed quite roughly. She told herself to open her mouth and scream for help but she couldn't catch her breath.   
  
Her captor managed to grab hold of the collar of her shirt and she choked momentarily before she was able to break free, the shirt ripping and the remaining fabric falling down around her shoulders.  
  
A hand grabbed her hair and pressed her face into the ground. Ronnie struggled and let out a gasp of pain as she was suddenly flipped onto her back, landing on something sharp in the grass. Was that a _stick_ piercing her skin?  Whatever it was, it  _hurt._  
  
Ronnie wasn't entirely surprised when she opened her eyes and saw Steve on top of her. Upon seeing her pain, he grinned and pressed her back into the ground, grinding her skin against the sharp object. Although she tried not to, she let out a long, loud cry of pain.  
  
Realizing that she may draw attention to them, Steve abruptly stopped and pinned her wrists above her head.  
  
Blinking back tears of pain, Ronnie looked at him in disbelief and growled, "How did you find me here?"  
  
"Easily," Steve replied. "I followed your greasy friend here."  
  
Of course, Ronnie thought as her heart sunk. She should have known he would be watching Ratty back at home. But there was no time to think about that right now. She had to find a way to get him off of her so that she could go to the band for help.    
  
But instead, she found herself saying sarcastically, "Tell me, do you always run around in thunderstorms on Halloween night?"  
  
"Saw me, did you?" Steve asked proudly.  
  
"Yes," Ronnie replied. "In fact, I'm surprised you didn't get struck by lightning." She lifted her head and added darkly, "It would be no less than what you deserve."  
  
Steve looked furious for a split second, before he calmed down and said conversationally, "You seem to be getting awfully close to the bassist in the band - Deacon, is it?"  
  
"Don't bring him into this," Ronnie warned.  
  
"He seems like a rather nice chap, actually," Steve said, before he sneered and added, "Do you really think he deserves a dirty whore like you?"  
  
Ronnie told herself not to take Steve's words to heart, but she found herself holding her breath. Steve had hit a nerve and he knew it.  
  
"What do you honestly have to offer him?" Steve continued cruelly. "You're incapable of giving him love and you could never give him a stable family, not an impulsive slut like yourself. The only thing you can give him is what you gave me: a night of pleasure. And someone else's kid. I think he deserves better than that, don't you?"  
  
Ronnie was shaking her head, as if that would block out his terrible words.  
  
Steve leaned down and pressing his forehead against hers, whispered, "He is _too good_ for you."  
  
Furious, Ronnie lifted her hips forcefully, managing to knock Steve off of her. Before he hit the ground, she grabbed the gun that had been peeking out of his pocket, and scrambling to her feet, pointed it at him.  
  
\---  
  
Brian peered into the darkness, searching for Ronnie, as he and the rest of the band stood outside the barn studio. Roger had sworn he heard screams, but everything seemed quite ordinary...  
  
...except for the fact that Ronnie was pointing a gun at someone over near the tree line of the forest. In a split second, he took in her wild appearance and saw an enraged woman, crouching like a tiger and holding the gun so tightly her hands were shaking.   
  
Mouthing dropping open, he yelled over his shoulder, "Call the police!" before taking off at a run.  
  
As he got closer and noticed Ronnie's torn and tattered shirt, he prayed they weren't too late.  
  
\---  
  
As Steve knelt in the grass before Ronnie, staring into the barrel of his own gun, he said calmly, "Do it! You know you won't."  
  
"Why shouldn't I?" Ronnie yelled. "You ruined my life! You took _everything_ from me!"  
  
"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Steve asked.  
  
"Ronnie!" Ronnie recognized Brian's calm but firm voice. "Ronnie, don't do this."  
  
"Aw, let her, darling," Freddie said in a disappointed voice.  
  
"He's not worth it!" Brian said fiercely. "Ronnie, think about it. He's not worth spending the rest of your life in a dirty prison cell."  
  
Ronnie was so focused on pointing the gun at Steve that she didn't notice John creeping closer to her. She didn't realize he was there until he was standing directly behind her.  
  
"Ah!" Steve said with an evil grin. "Speak of the devil!"  
  
"Don't," John warned him, as he slowly circled his arms around Ronnie and put his hands over hers on the gun.  
  
"We were just talking about you," Steve continued. "Ronnie, you must realize how jealous this _boy_ is."  
  
Ronnie's lip curled in disgust. "Jealous of what? _You?_ You're hardly any reason to get jealous."  
  
"He's jealous because I was your first shag," Steve shrugged, "and not him."  
  
Ronnie's face burned. "Steve, shut _up_!" she shouted.  
  
"Virginity is a rather special thing, isn't it?" Steve added.  
  
Although John's fingers were now in control of Ronnie's on the gun, he made no move to lower the weapon that was still pointing at Steve.  
  
"You don't know that that was my first time," Ronnie snapped, trying to sound more confident than she felt.  
  
"Oh, but my dear, I do," Steve smirked. "You bled all over my bed."  
  
"I do wish it had been me!" John blurted out suddenly.  
  
Freddie grabbed Brian's arm. "Did he just say...?"  
  
Brian nodded in surprise. "I'm not sure if that statement should be classified as awkward or romantic."  
  
"Because perhaps then she would feel loved," John continued, his voice steadily getting louder as he gained confidence. "You made her feel _worthless_!"  
  
At that moment, Roger materialized out of nowhere, punching Steve in the side of the head.  
  
"Where have you been?" Brian exclaimed.  
  
"Bunch of dolts!" Roger said angrily. "I had to repeat the address ten times! I'll be surprised if the police show up at all!"  
  
John lowered Ronnie's arms and took the gun from her. As the fight left her and John's words sunk in, Ronnie felt her knees go weak.  
  
"John, I think you should take Ronnie back inside," Brian said darkly, not taking his eyes away from Steve.  
  
John handed the gun to Freddie and putting an arm securely around Ronnie, began to lead her away.  
  
"Remember Ronnie!" Steve said suddenly.  
  
Ronnie turned back to look at him.  
  
"Remember what I said," Steve said, his expression completely serious. "Too good for you."  
  
Suddenly exhausted, Ronnie turned without responding and let John take her away.  
  
As soon as they were out of sight, Roger fell to his knees behind Steve and grabbed his hair. Freddie, twirling the gun in his hands, paced in front of Steve.  
  
"Now what are we going to do with _you_?" he said, all business. "Steve, is it? May I call you that, darling?"  
  
"Call me whatever you want," Steve replied. "I know a few things I could call your kind..."  
  
Roger slapped Steve upside the head. "Pay attention!"  
  
"If you're going to kill me, just do it," Steve growled. "Put me out of my misery."  
  
"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," Freddie said cheerfully.  
  
"Why not?" Roger asked, clearly disappointed.  
  
"I'm not spending the rest of my life in jail for _you_ ," Freddie said to Steve. "Why, you're nothing but a sewer rat decaying in a cesspool of pride!"  
  
"Dog with disease," Roger hissed.  
  
"King of the sleaze," Brian agreed.  
  
Freddie leaned closer to Steve. "Tell me, darling, was that fin on your back part of the deal?"  
  
"Shark," Roger whispered loudly into Steve's ear.  
  
And drawing his fist back, Freddie punched Steve square in the face.  
  
\---  
  
"John, I'm so tired," Ronnie said for what was likely the fiftieth time, as she tried to hold her head up.  
  
John, standing behind Ronnie at the sink, rubbed soap into her hands to clean the dirt and blood out of her scraped palms. "How much sleep did you get last night?"  
  
"Ten minutes," Ronnie mumbled, as John thrust her hands under the cool water of the faucet. "I want to go to bed."  
  
John lifted his gaze and glanced at Ronnie in the mirror. Her eyes were closed. "Soon," he promised.  
  
Next, John sat Ronnie on the toilet seat, with the intention of cleaning the dirt off of her face with a wet cloth, but after Ronnie's head dropped onto his shoulder for the third time, he realized he needed to find a better way.  
  
John pulled Ronnie to a standing position, before he circled one arm around her hips and the other arm around her thigh and lifted her onto the vanity.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Stay awake for me," he said softly. "Just a little bit longer, I promise."  
  
Ronnie slouched and closed her eyes, but managed to stay in an upright position as John gently wiped the dirt off of her face with the damp cloth. It was certainly something she could have managed on her own but she figured John knew that she had been planning to fall into bed immediately, dirt and torn shirt and all.  
  
As John set the cloth aside, he glanced once more into the mirror and caught a glimpse of Ronnie's back. His eyes widened when he saw blood seeping through her white shirt.  
  
"You're bleeding," John said quietly.  
  
Ronnie nodded. "I'll take care of it."  
  
"You won't be able to reach," John said apologetically. "Could you turn around for me, please?"  
  
Sleepily, Ronnie turned her head and made a halfhearted attempt to rotate her body in that direction, as well. The result was a pitiful half twist that left her still facing forward.  
  
John shook his head. "Not quite," he murmured, as he hesitantly put his hands on her hips and turned her so that her back was to him. Wearily, Ronnie leaned her forehead against the mirror.  
  
John plucked at Ronnie's torn shirt, before peaking underneath it quickly. When he saw the source of the blood was directly in the middle of Ronnie's back, he realized he had no choice.  
  
"Ronnie," he said, swallowing hard. "I need you to...to lift your shirt."  
  
Ronnie's eyes snapped open as she sat up quickly. If she wasn't quite awake before, she sure was now.  
  
"What?" she asked stupidly as she tried to think of an excuse to leave.  
  
John looked at the floor. "I...I need you to...to..."  
  
Ronnie realized then that this was likely as hard for John as it was for her. But the thought of lifting her shirt and showing John her new, wide hips and her bare back and the stretch marks on her waist was unbearable.  
  
"I can't clean the wound if your shirt is covering it," John whispered.  
  
Feeling embarrassment burning her cheeks, Ronnie slowly lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head, making sure her arms were still securely in the sleeves and that her front was covered. She tried to ignore how exposed she felt.  
  
John took a deep breath as he found the first aid kit, but when he turned to Ronnie's back, he realized he had a bigger problem. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wondered desperately why the wound had to be located _underneath_ her brassiere. Why couldn't it have been above, or below, or on her arm...  
  
Mortified, John looked out into the hall, but he and Ronnie were quite alone. There was no Brian with an encouraging smile, or Freddie with his motivational words, or even _Roger_ who would have come and unclasped it without blinking...  
  
John told himself to _stop_. There was no reason he couldn't do this. And besides, whatever had pierced Ronnie's back had undone almost all of the clasps on her bra anyway...at least he hoped it had been the object, and not Steve.  
  
Slipping a finger underneath the silky fabric, John lifted it away and slipped the wet cloth underneath. Letting out a breath, he relaxed slightly...until the last tiny clasp came undone and the bra fell away.  
  
Ronnie wrapped her arms around her chest as she felt suddenly very loose and very free.  
  
"Ronnie, I'm _so_ sorry," John's voice was clearly pained and he was glad that Ronnie couldn't see his face, which was bright red. "It just _happened_...that wasn't _me_ , I swear..."  
  
Ronnie glanced in the mirror, expecting to see John's face, but her heart grew heavy when she realized he was actually _hiding_ behind her.  
  
"Deaky," she whispered.  
  
John looked up into the mirror.  
  
"It's all right," Ronnie insisted with a small smile. "I'm not worried."  
  
Relieved, John nodded with an embarrassed, tight-lipped smile, before wiping the blood off of her back and applying disinfectant to the ugly red gash.  
  
As he pulled out a giant band-aid, he thought to himself how there was so much he wanted to say to her. But he found that all he was capable of doing was gently kissing the center of the band-aid and pressing it against her skin.  
  
\---  
  
Back outside, at the end of the driveway, Freddie sat comfortably on Steve's back, smoking a cigarette.  
  
"Another one bites the dust, darlings," he said calmly.  
  
Steve, covered in blood and bruises (most of which were delivered to him by Roger), was barely conscious and let out a low groan.  
  
"Shut up!" Roger said loudly. "You do not get to speak!"  
  
"Where are they?" Brian asked anxiously, peering into the dark road. "At this rate, we're probably better driving him to the police station ourselves."  
  
"Better start up the van, then," Roger said.  
  
Brian turned to him in surprise. "Why my van? Why not your car?"  
  
"I'm not getting _his_ blood all over _my_ seats!" Roger retorted.  
  
Brian sighed.  
  
"Are you sure he's suffered enough?" Freddie asked doubtfully.  
  
Brian thought for a moment. "Roger, you could sing those high notes directly into his ear."  
  
"Then you'll be deaf _and_ dumb, darling," Freddie said, patting Steve reassuringly on the arse.  
  
"And waste my beautiful falsetto on him?" Roger asked incredulously.  
  
They didn't have long to ponder about it, because at that moment, a police car came ambling down the road.   
  
"That's it!" Brian said loudly, clearly annoyed, though he knew the police couldn't hear him. "By all means, take your time! Don't rush on our account!"  
  
The officers exited the vehicle and hauled Steve to his feet, taking in his ghastly, bloody appearance.  
  
"What happened here?" one them asked suspiciously.  
  
"Self-defense," Freddie replied tartly.  
  
As soon as Steve was handcuffed and put into the back of the car, Roger grabbed his hair. "Next time you and your wife want a kid, don't be a disgusting arsehole. There's this thing called adoption."  
  
"But don't do that either because no one deserves to have you as a father," Brian hissed and slammed the door shut.  
  
As the police car carried Steve away, the three bandmates fell into a relieved group hug.  
  
\---  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
John closed the first aid kit. "What did Steve mean when he said 'too good for you'?"  
  
Ronnie bit her lip. It wasn't something she felt like she could discuss with John, not when she wasn't even sure what they were to each other. How awkward it would be to discuss love, and having a family, and how inadequate Steve said she would be, when they had barely even been on a proper date...  
  
...and besides, she didn't completely disagree with Steve.  
  
Instead of answering, she looked over her shoulder and said very quietly, "Did you mean what _you_ said out there?"  
  
"What I said out there?" John repeated, trying to think of what he had said.  
  
"When you said you wished it had been you?"  
  
John covered his eyes with his hand. He had completely forgotten he had admitted out loud that he wished he had been the one to...with Ronnie...and...  
  
Swallowing his humiliation, John turned Ronnie back to face him, but couldn't look her in the eye. "I asked you first."  
  
Ronnie smiled at that and allowed John to lift her off of the vanity. "Fair enough." But before John could say anything else, she had rushed to her room, her first priority being putting a shirt on.  
  
\---  
  
When Ronnie got into bed, she was dismayed to find that she wasn't tired anymore. Annoyed, she thought how this is exactly what happened the night before. The moment she was in her room alone, she thought about fear and nightmares and ghosts, and then sleep was no longer a possibility.  
  
John tapped on the partially open door and stepped shyly into the room.  
  
"I just wanted to wish you a good night," he said with his typical Deaky smile.  
  
"Deaky, will you..." Ronnie paused, hoping her request wouldn't sound promiscuous, "...will you stay with me tonight?"  
  
John looked surprised, but he immediately nodded. "Of course." He made himself comfortable in the chair next to the bed.  
  
Ronnie became even more uncomfortable as she realized he had misinterpreted her meaning. "No, I mean...will you _stay_ with me tonight?" Her eyes pleaded with him, begging him to understand.  
  
John stared at her a moment, before slowly moving onto the bed.  
  
"Only because I desperately need sleep," Ronnie said quickly, "and I don't think I can sleep alone tonight. Not after what happened."  
  
John nodded in understanding, before Ronnie turned the lamp off as quickly as she could, to hide how embarrassed she was.  
  
As they lay facing each other in the dark, Ronnie couldn't help but think how lovely it felt to not be alone at night. But her thoughts were quickly interrupted by a sudden sensation in her stomach.  
  
Reaching out, Ronnie took John's hand and pressed it against her belly, so that he could feel the kicking motions of the baby. Ronnie smiled as she heard John draw in a quick breath of awe as he felt the movement.   
  
After awhile, John felt brave enough to move his hand from Ronnie's belly and over to her back. He pressed his palm against the place where the object had pierced her.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"I did mean what I said outside," John said quietly, his face burning.  
  
He felt Ronnie squeeze his hand in response, which he took to be a good sign, but before she could uphold her end of the bargain and tell him what Steve had said, she had fallen fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really love to know what everyone thought of this chapter, since we sort of just turned in a new direction. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> And take that, Steve. 
> 
> Stay tuned, next time we're going on a date with Ronnie and Deaky. :)


	18. Chapter 18

When Ronnie opened her eyes the next morning, the first emotion that drifted back to her was embarrassment, and she couldn't remember why.  
  
As she hugged her pillow tightly and struggled to fully wake up, she tried to recall any events from the night before that would make her feel so awkward, and sort of seasick even though she was clearly on dry land...  
  
Ronnie sat up in bed, eyes wide, as she remembered. _Oh Ronnie_ , she thought to herself in horror. _Did you_ really _ask John to sleep with you last night?_  
  
And then, as the entire incident from the night before came back to her, she remembered John admitting that he wished he had been the one to...Ronnie clamped her legs shut tightly, as if this would prevent John from even  _thinking_ something like that.  
  
But perhaps he was just being kind? Ronnie leaned back on her hands and thought about it. What if telling someone that you wished you had been their first shag was a kind of casual compliment, sort of like _You look nice tonight_ or _You have a great sense of humor_?  
  
Somehow, Ronnie didn't think so.  
  
Glancing to her left, Ronnie saw that John was gone, and she tried to ignore the feeling of heavy disappointment that settled on her chest. It was almost 10:30, it was late morning, _of course_ he wasn't there.  
  
And then she remembered the reason why she had asked John to stay - _Steve_. Rolling ungracefully out of the bed, Ronnie ran to the window, opened it, and stuck her head out, as if she still expected Steve to be kneeling there on the lawn.  
  
Was he gone, for good? Dying to ask the band, Ronnie got ready as quickly as she could.  
  
It wasn't until she was rushing down the stairs that she realized something quite important. With John by her side the previous night, there had been no bad dreams.  
  
\---  
As Brian put the finishing touches on a celebratory breakfast, in honor of the special occasion of beating Steve senseless and sending him to jail, Roger cleared his throat.  
  
"So Deaky," he said casually from his place at the table. "A little bird told me that last night, you said you wished you had been Ronnie's first shag."  
  
John, who had been in the process of taking a sip of tea, choked on it.  
  
Freddie couldn't resist joining in. "As in, he wished he had popped her cherry, darling?"  
  
"He wished he had thrown the first pitch?" Brian added, trying to hide a smile as he sat down.  
  
"Well, that's a very American thing to say," Freddie said, sounding quite impressed.  
  
John, finally finished with his coughing fit, sat quietly as he turned bright red.  
  
The table was completely silent for a moment, before Roger blurted out, "You mean to say he wished he had deflowered her?"  
  
Freddie nodded. "Get down, make love."  
  
"Good old fashioned roll in the hay," Brian said solemnly.  
  
John, quite flustered, stammered, "I didn't...I didn't mean..."  
  
"Oh, but darling, I think you did," Freddie said, before reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. "And there's nothing wrong with that!"  
  
At that moment, they heard Ronnie running down the stairs. Moments later, she burst into the kitchen, and asked breathlessly, "What happened?"  
  
Freddie, Brian, and Roger had been so caught up in poking fun at John that for just a few moments, they weren't sure what she meant. Roger was the first to remember, as he nudged Freddie with his shoulder and gave him a look that said, _Did we seriously forget?_  
  
Grinning proudly, Freddie rose from his chair and said grandly, "He's gone, darling."  
  
"We beat the _shit_ out of him," Roger added.  
  
"And then the police took him away," Brian said, before muttering under his breath, "If you could even call them that."  
  
"Truly?" Ronnie asked hopefully. "He's really gone?"  
  
"Gone like the wind, darling," Freddie assured her.  
  
"We were going to tell you last night but you and Deaky were sleeping," Roger said, before adding with a cheeky smile, "Together."  
  
While John dropped his head into his hands, quite sure he'd never felt so embarrassed, Ronnie let out a dramatic sigh of relief and threw her arms around Freddie, who was the closest bandmate in reach.  
  
Not wanting to be left out of this important moment, Roger sprang to his feet and hugged Ronnie from behind. Brian wrapped his arms around all three of them, and Roger stuck out his hand, indicating to John that he should join them.  
  
John, still blushing furiously, approached the group hug cautiously, until Roger grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and pulled him in.  
  
"Thank you," Ronnie whispered from the center of the group hug. "You guys are the best."  
  
"Oh, believe me, it was our _pleasure_ ," Roger insisted, and sensing where they were going with this, John retreated back to the table.  
  
As they all gathered around for breakfast, Brian pushed a plate with two eggs towards Roger.  
  
"Two?" Roger asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"You earned it," Brian said. "Good job last night."  
  
As Roger beamed and attacked his plate, Ronnie allowed herself to believe that perhaps the nightmare was truly over.  
  
\---  
  
The Monday before the concert was one of the warmest November days in...well, ever, and Ronnie lay in the grass with John that afternoon, gazing up at the blue sky, which was filled with fluffy, white clouds.  
  
"What do you see?" Ronnie asked John, as she tried to determine which clouds looked like certain objects.  
  
"Clouds," John replied.  
  
Ronnie burst out laughing.  
  
The two weeks since Steve's incarceration had been some of the happiest that Ronnie and the band had shared together. Comfortably settled into a routine, they all found themselves relaxed and grateful, and Ronnie found she was spending _a lot_ of extra time with John.  
  
"No, I mean, what shapes do you see?" Ronnie pointed to a particular cloud as an example and added, "That one kind of looks like your bass."  
  
John squinted into the sun, trying to see it.  
  
Ronnie pointed to a different cloud. "What does that cloud look like to you?"  
  
John thought about it for a moment, before saying, "Freddie."  
  
Ronnie grinned. "Freddie?"  
  
"Yes," John said reasonably. "You see, there's his microphone."  
  
Ronnie tilted her head. "Well, he'll be very flattered to hear you found him in a cloud."  
  
John smiled at that.  
  
Ronnie rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms around her pregnant belly. "He's a really good friend, isn't he?"  
  
"Freddie is..." John paused for a moment. "Well, he's my best friend."  
  
Ronnie watched as John stared at the sky thoughtfully.  
  
"He's very good for me, you know," he continued. "It's amazing how he 'works' on me."  
  
"As in, you become less shy?" Ronnie asked. "I can see how he has that affect on people."  
  
John nodded. "And sometimes he's the only one person who understands me. He's my voice, you know."  
  
"Well, you're lucky to have him," Ronnie said sincerely. "We all are."  
  
John rested his head in the crook of his arm and turning, gave her a sweet smile.  
  
\---  
  
**The Day of the Concert**  
**a.k.a. The Date  
**  
**5:30 p.m.  
**  
"Ratty, I am _so_ nervous," Ronnie said into the phone receiver, as she quickly glanced around the living room to make sure no one was there.  
  
From the other line, Ratty laughed. "I figured you'd be a nervous wreck. Dates tend to do that to people."  
  
"We don't know _for sure_ that it's a date," Ronnie said uncertainly.  
  
"Well, is the rest of the band going?" Ratty asked.  
  
"No," Ronnie admitted.  
  
"You're going alone?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Have you ever gone to a concert alone with Freddie, Brian, or Roger?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And is Deaky paying?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It's a date," Ratty confirmed.  
  
Ronnie felt butterflies in her belly. "So what do I do?"  
  
Ratty thought about it. "Pop a breath mint."  
  
"Yes, and?"  
  
"Ask Roger to borrow a cond-"  
  
_"Ratty!"_  
  
"Oh wait, you're already pregnant."  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"And do _not_ hurt him," Ratty said firmly.  
  
"You can stop staying that," Ronnie said irritably. "You have so little faith in me."  
  
"Call me when you get home," Ratty said. "I want to hear every single detail."  
  
"You got it," Ronnie sighed, before hanging up and realizing she really didn't feel much better. Was telling her to keep breath mints on hand and not to hurt John really the best advice he could offer her?  
  
Actually, it probably was, and getting up, Ronnie reminded herself that she had his support and that was worth everything.  
  
**6:30 p.m.  
**  
_Don't cry, Ronnie.  
_  
Placing her index fingers under her eyes, Ronnie blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears from escaping. She had just done her hair and her makeup and she could not ruin all of her hard work by crying.

 _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._  
  
But she was so _frustrated_ and as she sat on her bed and took deep breaths, she could only face her reality. She had nothing to wear.  
  
There was a whimsical knock on the door, and sniffing back snot, Ronnie wailed, "Come in!"  
  
Freddie poked his head in, already wearing an encouraging smile, but when he saw the state Ronnie was in, his smile disappeared. Closing the door, he gave her a concerned look.  
  
"You're not going dressed like that, are you?"  
  
Ronnie looked down at her oversized Mickey Mouse shirt and mismatched socks. She wasn't wearing any pants.  
  
"Why, what's wrong with it?" Ronnie asked as seriously as she could.  
  
Freddie looked horrified.  
  
"I'm joking, Freddie," Ronnie said with a grin, as she continued to wipe at the moisture in the corner of her eyes.  
  
"I'd cry too if I was going on a date dressed like that," Freddie said, folding his arms. "What's wrong, darling?"  
  
"Do you _really_ think it's a date?" Ronnie asked anxiously.  
  
"Obviously," Freddie replied, sitting on the bed beside her.  
  
"Oh, Freddie," Ronnie whispered. "What am I going to do? I can't date anyone right now."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
Ronnie gestured at her body. "Have you seen me?"  
  
"Yes, I have," Freddie said, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "And you're beautiful, darling."  
  
"But Freddie, I don't think I can be..."  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"I don't think I can be intimate with anyone right now," Ronnie said quietly, feeling her cheeks burn red.  
  
" _Intimate_?" Freddie exclaimed. "Who said anything about intimate, darling?"  
  
"Well, Ratty said..."  
  
"Ratty!" Freddie scoffed. "Don't listen to him, darling. Just because he shags on the first date doesn't mean other people do."  
  
Ronnie let out a pained sigh.  
  
"Besides," Freddie said. "I can assure you that is the _last_ thing on Deaky's mind."  
  
"Really?" Ronnie asked hopefully.  
  
"Well, yes," Freddie said, as if it were obvious. "Perhaps he'll hold your hand. He may kiss you at the end of the night. But I can guarantee you it won't go beyond that. At least, not tonight."  
  
"Do you promise?"  
  
Freddie laughed. " _Yes_ , darling. He's not going to pull a Steve. I'm sure your ovaries are perfectly safe with Deaky."  
  
Ronnie tried not to smile at that, and failed.  
  
Freddie stood and holding out his arms, framed Ronnie with his fingers. "Now be silent, I need to concentrate."  
  
"On what?" Ronnie asked.  
  
"Your clothes, darling! That's why you're upset, isn't it?"  
  
"I might as well cancel," Ronnie said sadly, "because I literally do not have anything that fits."  
  
"And break poor Deaky's heart? Nonsense, my dear." Freddie rummaged through Ronnie's closet, before emerging with a garment. "What about this?"  
  
"My belly doesn't fit in that anymore," Ronnie said unhappily.  
  
"This?" Freddie asked, holding up something else.  
  
"My um..chest doesn't fit in that anymore."  
  
Freddie sighed, went back into the closet, and came out with something else.  
  
"My arse doesn't fit in that anymore."  
  
Freddie shook his head, and then, very suddenly, his face lit up. He ran out of the room, before returning and tossing a black shirt to Ronnie.  
  
"Try it, darling!"  
  
Ronnie held up the long-sleeved, black shirt with bell-shaped sleeves. "You want me to wear your shirt?"  
  
"Technically, it _is_ a women's shirt," Freddie pointed out, as he turned to give Ronnie some privacy.  
  
Ronnie tore off her t-shirt and pulling Freddie's shirt on hesitantly, found it fit perfectly.  
  
Freddie beamed. "Perfection. But you should really put pants on."  
  
Ronnie's eyes filled with tears again.  
  
"Just a pair of jeans, darling," Freddie insisted. "You're going to a _Who_ concert, not the grand opera."  
  
Sighing, Ronnie went in search of a pair of jeans that fit.  
  
**6:55 p.m.  
**  
"I'm so nervous," John said, as he sat on his bed and waited for seven o'clock to come.  
  
"What for?" Brian asked, as Roger ran a comb through John's hair.  
  
"What if..." John began, before stopping with a sigh.  
  
Brian licked his thumb and rubbed vigorously at a spot on John's neck.  
  
"Stop it, Bri, that's a mole!" Roger exclaimed, brandishing the comb at him.  
  
"Oh," Brian said, pulling his hand away. "Sorry."  
  
"You're such a mum," Roger remarked, before turning his attention back to John. "Stop thinking about the other concert. That's not going to happen again."  
  
"Exactly," Brian agreed, as Roger pushed John off of the bed, and helped him into his leather jacket. "And we'll be here waiting for you when you return."  
  
"So you can tell us _everything_ ," Roger said with a grin.  
  
Taking a deep breath and nodding, John walked out into the hall. But he returned ten seconds later, looking very alarmed.  
  
"The tickets!" he said nervously.  
  
"They're in your pocket," Brian said gently, pushing him back out the door.  
  
Sticking a hand in his jacket pocket, John realized Brian was right. Heart racing, he left once more.  
  
**7 p.m.  
**  
Ronnie stood at the top of the stairs, wringing her hands together.  
  
"The evening will never begin if you don't go downstairs, darling," Freddie said.  
  
Ronnie reached out and grabbed Freddie's hand. "Come with me?"  
  
"On your date?" Freddie asked, eyebrows raised.  
  
"To the door."  
  
Freddie placed Ronnie's hand in the crook of his arm and began to walk Ronnie down the stairs. "I feel like I'm giving you away at your wedding, dear."  
  
Ronnie groaned. "Thanks, Freddie. If I didn't feel sick before, I do now."  
  
Upon rounding the corner, they saw John waiting patiently at the door. He turned, and when he saw Ronnie, his face lit up.  
  
Freddie stopped a few steps from the bottom, and grandly sent Ronnie down the remaining three steps. As Ronnie approached the door, Freddie mouthed to John, "Compliment her!"  
  
John swallowed nervously. "You look...you look..."  
  
_Beautiful!_ Freddie mouthed. _Be-yoo-ti-ful.  
_  
"Really nice," John finished, and biting his lip, hung his head. He could have done better than that.  
  
Freddie, running a hand down his face, couldn't have agreed more.  
  
But Ronnie didn't appear to notice, and opening the door, she smiled at him and replied, "You look really nice, too."  
  
As the door closed behind them, Freddie sat on the stairs, thoroughly exhausted, and hoped the night would have a happy ending, for all their sakes.  
  
**7:45 p.m.**  
  
Ronnie shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her as they stood in line and waited to enter the venue. November had decided to be cold again and they could really feel the chill that evening.  
  
John handed Ronnie her ticket and looking up at him, Ronnie thanked him with all her heart and gave him an excited smile. Blushing, John looked at his shoes with a shy smile.  
  
But Ronnie's smile disappeared as she thought to herself that this was the same way the Zeppelin concert had begun and _that_ had ended so terribly...  
  
Ronnie forced herself to snap out of it. Already, the evening was going so smoothly. Freddie had found her an outfit, and she and John had talked the entire forty-five minute ride to the venue, and there was no way Steve could ruin this night for them.

As the line began to move, Ronnie told herself they had nothing to fear.  
  
**8:00 p.m.**  
  
As they walked around the venue to kill a bit of time before the show, Ronnie suddenly spotted a vendor selling ice cream. Being pregnant meant that she could not resist ice cream ever and taking John's hand and pulling him towards the line of people, she asked him hopefully, "Will you share one with me?"  
  
John was momentarily caught off guard. He had been expecting that perhaps they'd share something they could bite into, not something they'd both have to lick. It seemed so intimate...  
  
...but he knew Ronnie wasn't thinking about that at all; she was merely excited for ice cream. And reminding himself that this was a _date_ after all, he smiled down at her and said, "Of course."  
  
As they came to the front of the line and Ronnie ordered, John pulled out his wallet, but Ronnie had already reached into the back pocket of her jeans and paid the vendor. John couldn't help but feel disappointed, but as they walked away, Ronnie explained to him, "You paid for the tickets. This is the least I could do."  
  
Leaning against a wall, Ronnie casually licked the perimeter of the cone. John watched as her tongue cut slowly through the soft-served ice cream and found that he felt weak, almost lightheaded. He was sure Ronnie could hear his heart pounding as she turned and handed him the ice cream cone with a slight smile.  
  
Accepting the cone, John was dismayed to see his fingers were shaking. Reminding himself that it was a harmless _ice cream cone_ , he ran his tongue around the ice cream, following the path that Ronnie had just made, and felt his heart flutter. He felt so...close to her.  
  
And then, glancing down at Ronnie, he smiled because she clearly didn't realize she had ice cream on her nose. Licking his thumb, John reached out and rubbed it away.  
Ronnie laughed and thanked him. Beaming, John thought how proud Brian would be when he told him about this later.  
  
**8:12 p.m.**  
  
Ronnie, arms folded, was walking slowly through the crowd, people-watching. She was completely relaxed and fixed on her goal, until she noticed that a crowd had begun to gather around two men who were clearly a bit too drunk and had started to argue.  
  
Watching curiously with the rest of the crowd, Ronnie saw fists flying and realized at the last moment that she was not in an ideal spot. The first man had roughly shoved the second man, and the second man was flying towards her, along with his cup of beer.  
  
But John had been watching out for her and grabbing the back of her jeans, he pulled her back directly into his body and out of the way.  
  
Ronnie felt herself pressed against John's chest and her heart nearly stopped when she felt him put a protective arm around her belly. Frozen in that position, they watched as security arrived.  
  
Heart pounding, Ronnie turned to John and whispered, "Thank you." He had saved her from being pressed against a dirty floor with an inebriated fool on top of her.  
  
John looked in dismay at her shirt and she felt him slip his hands under her jacket to pull the wet fabric off of her. "He spilled beer on your shirt."  
  
"That's all right," Ronnie said, before biting her lip, leaning closer, and whispered secretively in his ear, "It's actually Freddie's shirt."  
  
John stared at her incredulously, before they both burst out laughing.  
  
**8:21 p.m.**  
  
John and Ronnie stood and surveyed the seats as they tried to determine where exactly they were sitting. Out of the corner of her eye, Ronnie saw a little girl in blonde pigtails approaching and she watched in surprise as she reached up and tugged on John's jacket.  
  
The girl, who was wearing a Who shirt that was two sizes too big for her, was half John's size, which explained why John didn't see anyone when he turned around. Looking down, he finally noticed the small girl.  
  
"Oh! Hello," he said with a smile, as he knelt before her, so that he was at her level.  
  
"My daddy said you're in a rock band, too," the girl said.  
  
"Did he now?" John said. "And what's your name?"  
  
The girl, realizing the attention had been shifted to her, turned shy and mumbled something.  
  
John leaned closer. "What was that?"  
  
"Emma," the girl whispered.  
  
"Emma?" John clarified, before spelling it out. "E-M-M-A?"  
  
The girl nodded bashfully.  
  
"Well, Emma, what's your favorite Who song?" John asked.  
  
Emma thought about it very carefully, before replying, "Boris the Spider."  
  
John chuckled. "That's a good one."  
  
"Your hair is real pretty," Emma said, suddenly distracted by John's shoulder length waves.  
  
"Not as pretty as yours," John told her.  
  
At that moment, a man appeared, and scooping Emma up, said to John, "Sorry about that, mate."  
  
John stood up. "Not at all," he said. "It's nice to meet a fellow rock fan." And he winked at Emma.  
  
As Emma's father carried her away, and Emma waved, Ronnie stared at John in wonder.  
  
"You are _wonderful_ with children," she said in awe.  
  
John shrugged. "They're just small adults, really."  
  
"You're too modest," Ronnie said with a smile, as she looped her arm through John's and allowed him to lead them to their seats.  
  
**9:45 p.m.**  
  
Ronnie didn't want the concert to end. The Who was _incredible_ and she couldn't have been more content, perched on the edge of her chair, enjoying the music with Deaky.  
  
As she watched Roger Daltrey swing his microphone through the air, she thought that maybe she should name the baby Roger if it was a boy. But that made her think of Roger Taylor, and she frowned as she realized she'd have to conceive three more baby boys to name Brian, Freddie, and John, so there would be no hurt feelings.  
  
_Absolutely not_ , she thought to herself. She would never have that many boys, not if she could help it. Perhaps it was best to stick with Robert Plant as a namesake.  
  
John was thoroughly enjoying the show and was not able to take his eyes off of Entwistle and his bass for long. But he _had_ spent the first hour and fifteen minutes of the concert trying to work up the nerve to hold Ronnie's hand.  
  
Often, her hands were clasped together in excitement or holding onto the chair in front of her as she leaned forward with childlike adoration. At other times, she shoved her hands into her jacket pocket.  
  
And so, the moment Ronnie put her hands onto her thighs, John finally reached over, took her hand, and entwined their fingers.  
  
Pulled out of her thoughts about baby rock star names, Ronnie looked over at John when she felt her hand in his. He looked nervously back at her, and Ronnie realized this was likely a big step for him, and so she squeezed his hand reassuringly and smiled.  
  
John nearly drowned in his own relief.  
  
**11 p.m.**  
  
When the show ended, Ronnie was in dire need of a bathroom, and on the way out of the venue, she pulled her arm from John's and told him she'd be right back.  
  
She was surprised when he grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Looking up at him, she saw the fear in his eyes and with a heavy heart, remembered that the last time he had let her go to the bathroom alone at a concert, she had returned and told him she never wanted to see him again.  
  
"I'll be fine," Ronnie reassured him. "I promise."  
  
John opened his mouth to say something, but shut it, letting his concerned eyes speak to her instead. He was still reluctant to let her go.  
  
"We'll have a secret code," Ronnie suggested. "If I come out and wink at you three times, you'll know something is wrong."  
  
John finally nodded and let her go.  
  
Just as Ronnie expected, there was no one waiting for her in the bathroom and when she exited the loo, she couldn't wait to return to John and see the relief on his face when she returned and smiled at him. But a scene in the distance made her stop short.  
  
A man was holding the hands of a heavily pregnant woman. They were both smiling, they were both happy, they were both unafraid. With a hand on her heart, Ronnie watched as the man knelt before the woman and kissed her round belly.  
  
Ronnie sighed as she observed the married couple, but then she caught herself. It was possible they _weren't_ married, and the thought that they were potentially unmarried actually made her feel much better...  
  
...until she saw the beautiful wedding ring on the woman's left ring finger.  
  
She found herself thinking how much she wanted that kind of happiness for John and she wondered if she'd seriously ever be able to provide that. And with that thought, Steve's words from three weeks ago rushed back to her.  
  
_Do you really think he deserves a dirty whore like you? What do you honestly have to offer him?_  
  
Ronnie, still unable to tear her eyes away from the couple, felt her eyes fill with tears. She had been trying to block out Steve's words for weeks, and she had been successful, but all it took was this one moment to bring them back.  
  
_You're incapable of giving him love and you could never give him a stable family, not an impulsive slut like yourself._  
  
John deserved to be here with a woman who would be able to wear his ring; John deserved to be that happy and that in love. John deserved to be here with a woman who would be carrying _his_ child. Ronnie didn't even think she wanted children; she didn't even know what she was going to do with the child she was currently growing in her belly.  
  
_The only thing you can give him is what you gave me: a night of pleasure. And someone else's kid. I think he deserves better than that, don't you?_  
  
He didn't deserve to be here with a woman who had slept with a random man because she felt lonely, a woman who was carrying the child of a psychopath.  
  
Ronnie felt a single tear run down her face.  
  
_He's too good for you.  
_  
Wiping the tear away angrily, Ronnie turned and walked away from the scene of marital bliss.  
  
_Stupid,_ Ronnie thought to herself. _How could you be so stupid?_ Did she honestly think that tonight would erase her entire past? Did she truly believe that she could ever be John's? And was she seriously beginning to fall in love with him?  
  
Terrified, Ronnie realized she was. And she shouldn't be.  
  
As she returned to John, she forced a smile onto her face but John wasn't smiling. He was looking at her with a very worried expression and that's when she knew that he could tell something was off.  
  
"It's fine," Ronnie said to him, hoping she sounded confident. "No Steve anywhere."  
  
And then she grabbed his hand, not so she could hold it, but so she could get them to Roger's car as quickly as possible.  
  
\---  
  
**11:30 p.m.**  
  
The ride home couldn't have been any more different from the ride there. At the beginning of the evening, neither of them could stop chatting. Now, they rode home in complete silence, except for the soft music floating from the radio.  
  
Ratty's voice was echoing through her mind like a broken record. _Do not hurt him, do not hurt him, do **not** hurt him_.  
  
And that's when she knew she couldn't let John kiss her at the end of the night.  
  
When they returned to the farmhouse, she'd thank him and hurry to her room. She would never let them get closer and they'd remember this as a fun night when John bought her a concert ticket and held her hand but nothing more. And then John could gradually move on and eventually, he'd be the one on his knees, adoring his pregnant wife in public.  
  
She realized then that the car radio was shoving a love song down her throat.  
  
_And my love does it good_  
_Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa_  
  
Ronnie leaned forward and quickly changed the station. No thank you, Mr. McCartney. No silly love songs tonight.  
  
_Angie, I still love you baby_  
_Everywhere I look I see your eyes_  
  
Ronnie sighed in disgust and changed the station again. Really, out of all the rocking Stones songs available in the world, they had to choose this?  
  
_Your kisses lift me higher, like the sweet song of a choir_  
_you light my morning sky with burning love_  
  
Oh, Elvis. Ronnie continued to flip through the stations, but every single one of them was playing love songs. Didn't they understand she needed to get John's mind off of love? She had never needed to hear Yellow Submarine so badly in her entire life.  
  
Giving up, Ronnie shut the radio off, and looked out the window into the darkness.  
  
**12:01 a.m.**  
  
Ronnie went over her escape plan once more as she walked up the front porch steps with John. She'd thank him, give him a hug, and then flee up the stairs. That way, there'd be no intimacy but there'd be no hurt feelings.

Except for the fact that she'd be hurting her own feelings but Ronnie tried not to think about that.  
  
Letting themselves into the house and turning on the hall light, they stood and faced each other at the bottom of the stairs.  
  
_Come on, Ronnie. Thank you...hug...run away._  
  
"Deaky, I had the best time," Ronnie said sincerely. "Thank you for everything."  
  
She threw her arms around him in what she hoped was a very _friendly_ hug, for friends, but as she pulled away and prepared to hustle up the staircase, John caught her hands.  
  
Leaning his forehead against Ronnie's, John figured this would be the best way to measure her feelings, to see if she was all right with this...if she pulled away, he'd know he shouldn't, and if she didn't pull away, he'd know he could kiss her. It was entirely a plan of protection for himself.  
  
Ronnie knew she should pull away but she found she couldn't move because she truly _wanted_ this moment, more than anything. And so, she selfishly allowed John to close the space between them and press his lips against hers. And to make matters worse, she kissed him back.  
  
If it had been merely a peck on the lips, that wouldn't have been so bad. But Ronnie scolded herself - they weren't in tenth grade, they were adults, and so of course it was going to be more than that...  
  
Right on cue, John gently deepened the kiss and Ronnie felt her knees go weak. She knew then that if she let this go any further, it would be impossible to stop it.  
  
Breaking the kiss, Ronnie jerked away and told herself not to look at John, but failed and her heart broke a little when she saw the self-doubt that was settling on his face, and the question in his eyes.  
  
"John, I'm so sorry," Ronnie whispered, trying to keep it together. "But I can't...we can't..."  
  
"But I thought..."  
  
_...that you felt the same way_ , John finished in his mind.  
  
"We need to stop this before one of us gets hurt," Ronnie said, not able to look him in the eye.  
  
"But Ronnie, I would _never_ hurt you."  
  
"But I'll hurt you," Ronnie said, her voice fierce. "I already have, I..." She trailed off, not sure what else to say.  
  
"Something upset you in the restroom," John said quietly. "Again."  
  
Ronnie bit down on her lip hard, squeezed her eyes shut, and shook her head. If she opened her mouth, she knew she'd begin to cry and she'd never be able to stop.  
  
Still holding her hands, John gently lowered both of them to sit on the stairs. "Tell me the truth," he pleaded.  
  
"I just did," Ronnie whispered  
  
"Is that really what you want?" John asked her.  
  
Ronnie shivered.  Isn't that what John had said to her at the Zeppelin concert? But she told herself to make her answer convincing.  
  
Ronnie lifted her head and opened her eyes. "Yes."  
  
"Then why are you crying?" John reached out, towards the tear that had escaped down Ronnie's cheek, but she flinched back.  
  
"Because you're very sweet, John," she said. "And you're such a good friend and it's very hard to tell you this."  
  
Slowly, John pulled his hands away. He didn't want to be _sweet_. But that's the way it was going to be; it would always be, _Deaky, you're so sweet_ or _Deaky, you're such a good friend._  
  
John didn't trust himself to speak. Ronnie's words made perfect sense; of course she was upset telling him this because she was one of the kindest souls he knew. He felt tears burning his throat, as he thought bitterly how Brian and Roger had said this wouldn't happen again and how wrong they were.  

And how he had been foolish enough to think her tears had been for him.  
  
"How much do I owe you for my ticket?"  
  
John looked away. "I told you that you didn't owe me anything."  
  
"I want to pay you back," Ronnie insisted and thought to herself, _This is what Freddie would call villainy._ But she couldn't allow him to pay for the evening, not after she had just disappointed him by telling him they could never be anything more than friends. That wouldn't be fair.  
  
John turned to her suddenly, and Ronnie was dismayed to see that haunted look in his eyes once more, the one she had seen after the Zeppelin concert.  
  
"Regardless of what is happening right now," he said in a low, anguished voice, "and regardless of how you feel, this was still a _date_ , Ronnie. And I won't take your money."  
  
"But I don't deserve..."  
  
"You deserve so much more than you think," John said sadly. "And maybe one day you'll stop punishing yourself and see that."  
  
Another tear ran down Ronnie's face. Leaning forward, John kissed it away. And then he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
Ronnie touched her face where his lips had been and felt her stomach twist in knots as she realized he had managed to see right through her once more.  
  
Feeling so utterly disappointed in herself, Ronnie turned and ran up the stairs. She didn't stop running until she had burst into her bathroom. She turned on the bathtub faucet so that no one would hear her sobs.  
  
As she sat on the floor and cried, she cursed Steve for still ruining everything, even from his jail cell.  
  
At the same time, John found himself at the cabinet where Roger kept the alcohol. Opening the cabinet, he pulled out a large bottle of vodka, unscrewed the cap, and took a small sip. Instantly, he recoiled and made a face - it usually wasn't his drink of choice.  But he had tried to be so brave for Ronnie and if the alcohol would numb this terrible pain he was feeling and erase the taste of Ronnie's tears on his tongue, then he'd suffer through it.  
  
Lifting the bottle once more, he took a long swig and sunk to the floor.  
  
**12:10 a.m.**  
  
"Is Ronnie taking a shower?" Brian asked curiously as they crept out into the hallway.  
  
"It must have been a hot date if she needed to take a cold shower," Roger said with a grin, but that grin disappeared when he noticed that John was nowhere in sight.  
  
"Where's Deaky?" he asked, turning to Brian.  
  
"He's probably making himself celebration cheese on toast," Brian said. "I wouldn't worry. Let's go wait for him in his room, where we said we'd be."  
  
But when John still had not appeared after over an hour, Brian and Roger made their way down the stairs. The hall light was on, but all of the other rooms were dark, and John was nowhere to be found.  
  
"Where the hell is he?" Roger asked, worried.  
  
Brian entered the kitchen and by the light of the moon, saw John on the floor.  
  
"Oh no," Brian whispered, as Roger shot forward and fell to his knees beside their bassist.  
  
"Deaky, what _happened_?" he asked in shock.  
  
John took a long drink from the nearly empty bottle in his hand and let out a long, low laugh that sounded positively evil.  
  
Roger looked at Brian and mouthed, _What the fuck?_ They had never, ever seen John like this before.  
  
Brian pulled the bottle away from John. "John, you're _better_ than this," he said firmly.  
  
John shook his head miserably. "Why doesn't she love me?" he whispered.  
  
Brian and Roger shared a long look.  
  
"What's _wrong_ with me?" John continued, suddenly not sounding very drunk at all, though he clearly was. "I mean, I know I'm not good with words like you Brian, and I can't sing like Freddie, and I'm not pretty like Roger is..."  
  
Roger gawked at him. "Deaky, you're _beautiful_. I'm just a dumb blonde."  
  
Brian nodded. "It's true."  
  
Roger scowled at him, before adding, "You have such a sweet smile, and your eyes are the loveliest color, and your fingers are so long..."  
  
"Well, the good news is that Roger is already in love with you," Brian said, blinking a few times.  
  
Roger rolled his eyes.  
  
"And what do you mean you're not good with words?" Brian exclaimed. "You wrote Misfire! John, that's a _great_ song, and I know you have plenty more great songs in you..."  
  
"Though we honestly can't comment on your singing because we've never heard you," Roger pointed out.  
  
John shook his head. "If I were...if I were to be a one night stand, then would I be good enough for her?"  
  
Brian quickly turned around, to make sure Ronnie wasn't anywhere near enough to hear that comment, as Roger replied, "Perhaps if you ask her nicely."  
  
Brian reached out and whacked Roger in the arm, before turning to John.  
  
"John, don't go there," he said fiercely. "You are too special for a one night stand."  
  
"So was Ronnie," John said brokenly.  
  
Brian sighed. "We need to get you to bed," he said, and motioned to Roger to help him. "We can discuss this in the morning."  
  
With their arms around an unsteady John, they managed to get as far as the kitchen doorway before they heard footsteps coming down the stairs.  
  
Pressing themselves and John against the adjacent wall, Roger and Brian listened intently. John let out a drunk giggle.  
  
Clamping a hand over John's mouth, Roger whispered, "What if it's Ronnie?"  
  
"We can't let her see him like this," Brian whispered back and slowly peeked around the corner. When he saw that it was indeed Ronnie, and that she was disappearing into the living room, he frantically motioned to Roger and they proceeded to haul John up the stairs as quickly as they could.  
  
In the living room, Ronnie curled up in a chair and picked up the phone receiver. It was so late, but he had said to call...  
  
Dialing the familiar number, Ronnie waited for Ratty to an answer.  
  
"I thought you were never going to call!" He exclaimed. "How'd did it go?"  
  
"I hurt him, Ratty," Ronnie whispered bitterly. "You told me not to, and I did."  
  
Ratty sighed. "Tell me what happened."  
  
**2:00 a.m.**

As Brian and Roger reached the top of the stairs, Freddie emerged from the bathroom.  
  
"Well, there you are, darling!" He exclaimed to John, but when he saw John's face, and the way Brian and Roger were holding him up, his smile disappeared.  
  
" _Fuck_ ," he said flatly, instantly knowing the date had not gone well. He motioned for them to follow him into his room.  
  
Brian and Roger gently lay John on Freddie's bed, as Freddie closed the door and said in a low, worried voice, "What _happened_?"  
  
Brian shrugged. "We don't know," he said, as he carefully removed John's jacket. "All we know is that he's drunker than Roger on New Year's Eve."  
  
"I wasn't _that_ drunk," Roger said uncertainly.  
  
"The date clearly didn't go well," Brian said tensely, as Roger began to pull off John's shoes. "And we'll find out why tomorrow but someone needs to stay with him tonight."  
  
Roger nodded reasonably. "So he doesn't choke on his own vomit."  
  
"Speaking from experience, are we?" Brian muttered.  
  
"He can stay with me tonight," Freddie decided. "You two get some sleep. You look bloody terrible."  
  
"Why thanks Fred," Brian said as opened the door and threw a mournful look at John, who had curled up on his side, his back to the door.  
  
"Goodnight, Deaky," Roger said softly, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before leaving with Brian.  
  
Freddie sighed as he tucked John under the blankets, wondering what could have possibly happened to make John consume so much alcohol. Turning off the light, he got into the bed, readying himself for a long, sleepless night. He had just grabbed his flashlight and notebook, and was preparing to work on some songs when...  
  
_Damn it straight to hell!_ he thought, as he realized he had no pen and without a pen, he couldn't write down his marvelous ideas. Sighing dramatically, he got out of the bed.  
  
"Freddie?"  
  
Freddie looked down at John and from the glow of his flashlight, Freddie could see that his eyes were open and tears were burning brightly in them. Freddie's felt his heart sink right to the floor.  
  
"Freddie, please don't leave me," John whispered.  
  
Freddie turned off the flashlight, put his things aside, and lay on the bed, facing his friend.  
  
"I'll always be here for you, darling. I won't ever leave you."  
  
Only once he felt Freddie's hand in his was John able to finally fall into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, everyone, I know things were just starting to look so hopeful! But I promise, if you ride the angst train with me this one last time, there are a lot of really beautiful moments coming up. 
> 
> But if you feel strongly about it, tell me! I love reading your impressions.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your comments, and for continuing to read!


	19. Chapter 19

The next evening, Brian made his way to the kitchen and made dinner as if nothing was wrong.  
  
"Why are you even bothering?" Roger asked, leaning against the counter and propping his chin up in his hands. "You know they aren't going to come down."  
  
"That's why we're going to _make_ them come down," Brian said irritably. "We're not going through _that_ again. We are all adults here and we are all going to have a very _nice_ dinner _together_." Brian slammed a fork down on the counter and gritted his teeth.  
  
From his place at the table, Freddie raised his eyebrows delicately.  
  
Thoroughly freaked out, Roger backed away. "All right then, but it's going to be awkward. Like... _really_ awkward."  
  
"That's fine!" Brian huffed as he picked up a bowl and began to stir its contents rather violently. "Awkward is good, it'll be very cleansing."  
  
Roger, realizing it was entirely possible that Brian had gone slightly mad, shook his head. "Just make sure you lock the alcohol cabinet so Deaky doesn't find his way back in."  
  
"You don't need to worry," John said quietly from the kitchen doorway. "I'm not doing that again."  
  
Freddie looked sympathetically at John. He was dressed entirely in black and he still looked slightly hung over.  
  
Brian looked up and forced a smile onto his face. "Deaky!"  
  
"You shouldn't smile when you're unhappy," Roger said to Brian, "because it makes you look flat out weird."  
  
Brian ignored him and tried to think of a compliment to boost John's confidence. "You look...erm..."  
  
"Like a little black rain cloud," Roger finished.  
  
"Are you going to a funeral, darling?" Freddie asked John politely.  
  
John sighed and looked at the floor. "I'm really not hungry."  
  
Freddie reached for John's hand and pulled him into the seat beside him. "You drank yourself silly last night, vomited most of the morning, and you haven't eaten a thing."  
  
Brian nodded, as he set everything onto the table. "Whether you're hungry or not, you should really eat something."  
  
"So how do you plan to get Ronnie down here?" Roger asked Brian.  
  
John turned to Freddie in alarm and shook his head, his eyes pleading.  
  
"That's your task, Rog," Brian said brightly. "Good luck with that."  
  
"You can't avoid her forever, darling," Freddie said gently to John.  
  
Quite annoyed at just about everything, Roger stood at the bottom of the stairs and bellowed, " _Ronnie_!"  
  
When there was no answer, he took a deep breath and once again yelled up the staircase, " _Ronnie!_ Come quickly!"  
  
"You don't need to shout!" Brian said crossly.  
  
Ronnie appeared at the top of the staircase. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I don't know but you'd better come down right away," Roger said in his best worried voice. "It's an emergency."  
  
As Ronnie scrambled down the staircase, Roger gave Brian a smug smile and took his seat.  
  
Ronnie appeared in the kitchen and put a hand to her heart as she tried to catch her breath. "What happened?" She looked anxiously around the kitchen, searching for the emergency and trying not to look at John.  
  
"We made dinner," Roger said innocently.  
  
Brian cleared his throat and Roger rolled his eyes. "Fine, _Brian_ made dinner."  
  
Ronnie looked at them incredulously. "I thought there was a _crisis_! You scared the _hell_ out of me!"  
  
"Completely Roger's idea," Brian said apologetically before turning to Roger. "You're not supposed to scare pregnant women, Roger!"  
  
Freddie rose from his seat and taking Ronnie by the shoulders, gently steered her to the table and sat her in the seat directly across from John. Extremely uncomfortable, Ronnie snuck a quick glance at him and saw that he was staring at his plate.  
  
"Right," Brian said officially. "Bon Appétit!"  
  
The table was silent except for the clanking of silverware as everyone passed dishes around and filled their plates. Ronnie prayed the meal would be over with quickly.  
  
"So," Brian said casually. "How was the date last night?"  
  
John stopped pushing his food around his plate and froze. Ronnie flinched, as if someone had pinched her.  
  
When it became clear that John wasn't going to say anything, Ronnie looked up and whispered, "It was fine."  
  
She watched helplessly as a tear slipped down John's cheek and fell into his dinner.  
  
"Oh Deaky," Roger said sympathetically. "If you wanted to make your food saltier you didn't have to squeeze out a tear." He placed the salt shaker next to John and turned to Brian. "I told you that you never put enough salt in!"  
  
"You want more salt?" Brian asked, sliding another salt shaker across the table. It hit Freddie's plate. "Be my guest! Excuse me for trying to protect you from hypertension!"  
  
John threw his napkin on the table and stood up. "Please excuse me," he whispered, before rushing from the room. They all listened to his footsteps as he ran up the stairs.  
  
Ronnie's eyes filled with tears as she stared after him and after a few moments, she also stood up, intending to leave.  
  
"Not so fast, dear," Freddie said, taking her hand and pushing her back into her chair.  
  
"But you let John leave!" Ronnie protested.  
  
"Someone has to tell us what happened last night," Brian said seriously. "And it's not going to be John because we don't think that John even knows what happened."  
  
Ronnie folded her arms and glared at her plate, feeling like a disgruntled teenager.  
  
"We're not tiptoeing around the subject anymore," Brian said, fixing her with a stern gaze. "We're asking you directly. What _happened_?"  
  
Ronnie lifted her head and looked back at him. "I ruined everything. Again."  
  
"Yes, but how, darling?" Freddie asked.  
  
Ronnie sighed. "We were having the most amazing time until..."  
  
Brian tugged one of Ronnie's arms away from her body and clasped her hand.  
  
It actually helped and Ronnie found she could continue. "Until I saw a beautiful pregnant woman."  
  
"Was it you?" Roger asked eagerly. "Were you looking in a mirror?"  
  
Ronnie smiled at that. "No," she said. "It was a married woman and her husband was adoring her. And it made me realize that John deserves so much more than someone like me."  
  
"Says who?" Freddie asked suspiciously.  
  
Ronnie looked at her lap.  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said, clearly worried. "Who told you that?"  
  
"Steve," Ronnie whispered.  
  
Roger slammed his knife onto the table and turned to Brian. "I told you we should have killed him!"  
  
"You should know that you can't trust anything that comes out of that twat's mouth," Freddie said hotly.  
  
"But he's right!" Ronnie exclaimed.  
  
"He's not," Brian argued.  
  
Roger shoved food in his mouth, watching intently, as if it were a dinner show.  
  
"John should be going out with someone who is carrying his own child!" Ronnie burst out, as all of her feelings from the night before tumbled out of her in a word vomit onslaught. "John should should be going out with someone who is going to give him a beautiful family! John should be going out with someone who is pure and wholesome and - "  
  
"Darling," Freddie said firmly. "In what prophecy book does it say that John is supposed to marry a pure, untouched virgin in white? Because it sounds like that's what you're trying to tell us."  
  
"Perhaps you could give John a really special evening," Roger said with a wink. "Then you'd both be tainted. It would put you on, you know, equal terms."  
  
"Oh _Roger_ ," Brian mumbled, running a hand down his face.  
  
"The point is, John deserves someone who is going to adore him," Ronnie finished passionately. "And I don't think I have it in me to love anyone like that."  
  
"I think you'd be surprised, darling," Freddie said meaningfully.  
  
"Did you tell John all of that, Ronnie?" Brian asked quietly.  
  
"No," Ronnie said flatly. "I told him we needed to stop before one of us got hurt. And the irony is that I hurt him _by_ telling him that."  
  
"You don't need to let Deaky go just because Steve tried to ruin your confidence," Roger suggested hopefully.  
  
"I let him go _because_ I love him!" Ronnie exclaimed, before clamping a hand over her own mouth. Embarrassed that she had disclosed something so raw, she quickly got up and left the kitchen.  
  
Brian, Freddie, and Roger heard the front door slam. They all stared at each other in shock.  
  
"Well, I think we learned something very important tonight," Brian said with a sigh.  
  
"And what's that?" Roger asked curiously.  
  
"Ronnie _does_ love John," Brian said sadly. "But she's not ready for a relationship."  
  
"Someone needs to tell Deaky," Freddie said immediately.  
  
"No," Brian said. "It will mean so much more if she tells him herself."  
  
Silence once more fell upon the table.  
  
Taking a bite, Roger chewed thoughtfully, before swallowing and saying to Brian, "This is delicious. Thanks for dinner, Bri."  
  
Looking at him in surprise, Brian smiled. "Thanks, Rog."  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie sat out on the porch for two hours. When she finally heard the front door open, it was pitch black out and there was a sharp chill in the air. She felt someone wrapping a blanket around her, and looking up, saw Brian sit beside her. Roger leaned against the wooden post behind Brian and folded his arms.  
  
"I have a really great idea," Brian said excitedly.   
  
Roger cleared his throat.  
  
Brian sighed. " _Roger_ found a hospital pamphlet with a really great idea."  
  
"I can hardly wait," Ronnie said, trying to hide a smile.  
  
Brian handed her the hospital pamphlet and waited in anticipation.  
  
Holding the pamphlet up to the porch light, Ronnie squinted and read the heading. "Childbirth classes!?"  
  
Brian mistook her shock for excitement. "Yes! Why didn't I think of that? It's perfect!"  
  
"I don't know, Bri," Ronnie said doubtfully. "I've heard of them and pregnant women bring their husbands to those kinds of classes."  
  
"And?" Roger asked, as if that was hardly a reason not to go.  
  
" _And_ I don't have a husband!" Ronnie pointed out. "I don't want to go alone."  
  
"You won't be alone," Brian said emphatically. "We'll go with you."  
  
For a moment, Ronnie imagined being in a childbirth class filled with happy couples.  The looks she'd get from those women when she arrived with _four_ men! They'd think she was a whore, that she didn't know who the father was. Against her better judgement, she burst out laughing.  
  
"What's so funny?" Brian asked, almost looking hurt.  
  
"Nothing," Ronnie said with a smile. "I was just imagining all four of you at a childbirth class with me."  
  
"Only one us would go," Brian assured her. "Me."  
  
"Excuse me?" Roger blurted out. "What about me? I want to take Ronnie to her childbirth class!"  
  
"Perhaps we could take turns," Brian suggested.  
  
Ronnie was still uncertain. "I don't know."  
  
"It will be good for you to know what to expect," Brian insisted. "And it will be good for us to know how we can support you when the time comes."  
  
Ronnie let out a nervous sigh. "All right."  
  
"Great!" Brian said enthusiastically. "Because you start tomorrow night."  
  
\---  
  
**Childbirth Class #1**  
  
"Name please?" The woman at the front desk asked.  
  
"Veronica Tetzlaff," Ronnie replied.  
  
"And your husband's name?"  
  
Ronnie looked over her shoulder at Roger, who had insisted on the honor of bringing Ronnie to her first class.  
  
"Oh, my husband isn't feeling well," Ronnie lied. "This is my brother, Roger Taylor."  
  
The woman smiled at Roger. "Welcome, Mr. Taylor."  
  
Ronnie was relieved that the childbirth class teacher had believed her, but then again... _of course_ she would. Ronnie and Roger could have easily passed as siblings, with their long blonde hair.  
  
As they made their way to the classroom, Roger stopped and gawked at a large poster of a woman's anatomy.  
  
"Like in Brian's book," he said in awe, before turning to Ronnie suspiciously. "Is this allowed to be displayed in public like this?"  
  
Ronnie laughed and pulled on his arm to move him along. "Well, considering that's what this class is all about, probably?"  
  
Ronnie was expecting to sit in a chair and listen to the teacher talk for an hour, and so she was very surprised when she found herself sitting between Roger's knees instead.  
  
"The first half of class will always consist of techniques," the teacher - whose name was Delilah - announced, "and the the second half of class will be education. Now, let's work on breathing."  
  
"Freddie always wanted a cat named Delilah," Roger whispered into Ronnie's ear.  
  
"Now, daddies and Mr. Taylor," Delilah smiled at Roger before continuing, "put your hands on mummy's shoulders and massage gently."  
  
Roger dug his fingers into Ronnie's shoulders.  
  
"Roger, ow!" Ronnie hissed.  
  
"Sorry!" Roger whispered loudly, easing up on his grip.  
  
"Now, deep breath in and deep breath out," Delilah instructed.  
  
Ronnie, all of the pregnant women in the room, and Roger took in a deep breath and let it out.  
  
"Now one more," Delilah said.  
  
Roger took in a very deep breath, inhaled some of Ronnie's hair, and choked on it.  
  
"Are you all right, Mr. Taylor?" Delilah asked.  
  
Roger finished coughing and nodded. Ronnie bit her lip and tried not to laugh.  
  
It was quite funny to watch Roger trying so hard to succeed in breathing techniques, but Ronnie's endurance was really tested when Delilah took out a giant poster, which just happened to be a replica of the one Roger had been admiring in the hallway.  
  
Pointing to the woman's anatomy, Delilah said, "Now let's talk about the vagina for a moment."  
  
Roger, still sitting behind Ronnie, dropped his face into Ronnie's shoulder and let out a snort of laughter.  
  
As Delilah continued to discuss the vagina as casually as if she were talking about the weather, or her favorite recipe, Ronnie realized that Roger was slowly losing his composure. Her eyes filled with tears from the effort of trying to keep a straight face as she reached back and pinched him in the leg.  
  
It was only when Delilah put the poster away that Roger was able to lift his head out of Ronnie's hair - which was soaked with Roger's tears of laughter - and whisper to Ronnie, "I'm sorry, Ronnie. I'm just nervous, that's all."

Ronnie patted Roger's hand reassuringly.  She knew very well by now how Roger reacted when he was nervous.  
  
Next, Delilah reported to the class that they were all going to watch a video and Roger immediately forgot about his anxiety.  
  
"I _love_ movies," he whispered to Ronnie. "Where's the popcorn?"  
  
"Believe me," Ronnie assured him. "After watching this, you're not going to want popcorn.  Ever again."  
  
Ronnie, Roger, and the rest of the class were treated to an up close and personal view of a pair of spread legs and a woman in labor. Roger stared at the screen with an expression of pure horror.  
  
When the head began to emerge, Roger put his hands over Ronnie's eyes.  
  
" _Roger_!" Ronnie whispered, taking his hands and holding them firmly in hers. "I need to know what's going to happen!"  
  
She would be lying to herself if she said that the video didn't scare the hell out of her too, but by the time it ended, her only thought was that she needed to get a very traumatized Roger back home to bed.  
  
**Childbirth Class #2  
**  
"Good evening, Mrs. Tetzlaff," Delilah said cheerfully. "What's your husband's name?"  
  
Ronnie turned and looked at Brian. "He's still quite ill. This is my cousin, Brian May."  
  
"Very well," Delilah said politely. "Welcome, Mr. May."  
  
As they walked to the classroom, Brian asked gently, "Why did you feel you needed to lie?"  
  
"Twice in a row she's assumed that I've had a husband," Ronnie explained. "I don't want to see the disappointment on her face if she learns the truth."  
  
Brian sighed as they sat on the floor. As he took his position behind Ronnie he wished, not for the first time, that they lived in a society that was more accepting.  
  
Practicing breathing techniques with Brian was quite different than practicing breathing techniques with Roger. While Roger breathed along with her and sucked in nosefuls of her hair, Brian kept his face close to hers at all times, repeated exactly what Delilah was saying, and commended Ronnie on a job well done.  
  
" _Perfect_ Ronnie," Brian whispered proudly. "You're doing so well. One more, in and out - _yes_ , just like that!"  
  
"Have you ever considered being a childbirth teacher, Mr. May?" Delilah asked, smiling.  
  
Brian pulled The Obstetrics Handbook out of his pocket and held it up eagerly. "I think I could give it a go."  
  
Ronnie watched in shock as Delilah invited Brian to the front of the room for the education portion of the class.  Using a baby doll and a skeleton replica of the pelvis, Brian demonstrated to everyone how the baby was going to emerge from the birth canal, most likely head first.  
  
As Ronnie watched in awe, she thought to herself how very lucky she was to have Brian.  
  
**Childbirth Class #3  
**  
"All right ladies," Delilah said enthusiastically. "Please position yourself on your hands and knees."  
  
Ronnie followed Delilah's instruction, feeling very much like a dog. Behind her, Freddie watched the class, unable to hide his fascination. Delilah had once again inquired about her husband and Ronnie, running out of ideas, had introduced Freddie as her gynecologist.  
  
"Now daddies and Dr. Mercury," Delilah said, as Freddie beamed at his new - and fake - title. "I want you all to take your hands and cup the hips of the woman in front of you."  
  
Ronnie dropped her head, feeling utterly embarrassed as she felt Freddie's fingers on her hips.  
  
"Now," Delilah continued. "Lift the hips and squeeze them together."  
  
Although it was a rather compromising position, Ronnie couldn't deny that it felt wonderful.  
  
"This is positively filthy darling," Freddie observed, though he sounded delighted.  
  
Ronnie looked around the room at all of the husbands kneeling behind their wives and massaging their lower halves. She had to admit it seemed very...intimate.  
  
"Why, this is nothing but a giant orgy!" Freddie whispered gleefully into her ear.  
  
Though she tried not to, Ronnie burst out laughing. "Freddie, it is _not_!"

"Listen to me, darling.  I am a doctor, you know."  
  
"Well done, Dr. Mercury!" Delilah exclaimed. "Everyone, take a quick look here and see how Dr. Mercury is getting along. Lift the hips and squeeze. Lift and _squeeze_."  
  
Turning bright red and wanting desperately _not_ to be the center of attention, Ronnie turned her head and let the curtain of her hair hide her her face, while Freddie relished the spotlight.  
  
"Now, mums, this should be a very freeing sensation," Delilah continued.  
  
"Well, darling?" Freddie asked Ronnie.  "Did you break free?"  
  
"I feel like a cow being milked," Ronnie muttered and Freddie grinned.  
  
**Childbirth Class #4**  
  
"I know it's Deaky's turn to bring Ronnie," Brian said the night of the final class, "but I don't know if that would be for the best."  
  
Freddie thought about it, before nodding. "It is _very_ intimate."  
  
"Shouldn't we at least ask him?" Roger said doubtfully.  
  
"I think he's in the studio," Brian said, glancing out the window. "We probably should just let him be."  
  
Freddie nodded in agreement. "That way we won't put him in an awkward position.  Poor Deaky can barely handle being in the same room with her right now."  
  
Roger looked uncertain, but eventually agreed with his bandmates.  
  
\---  
  
In her bathroom, Ronnie bit her lip in concentration as she piled her hair on top of her head. Ever since the childbirth class with Roger, when she had come home with tangled, wet hair, she had started pulling her hair back for class.  
  
As she made her way down the stairs, she thought nervously how technically, it was John's turn to take her, and she wondered if he actually would. She couldn't help but feel relieved when she saw Brian instead.  
  
But only seconds after Brian and Ronnie left, John walked into the farmhouse through a side door. Approaching Roger, who was sprawled out on the living room couch, he asked, "Is Ronnie ready?"  
  
"Ready for what?" Roger asked.  
  
"Class," John replied.  
  
Roger slowly sat up, looking positively guilty. "She just left with Brian."  
  
John looked crestfallen. "But it was my turn to take her."  
  
"We thought you wouldn't want to..." Roger realized then that he had been right - as he always was - and that they really should have asked John first.  
  
"Oh," John said quietly, trying to hide his disappointment.  
  
"Wait!" Roger said quickly, jumping up from the sofa. "It's not too late. I'll drive you."  
  
John shook his head.  
  
But Roger, realizing this might be a perfect chance to reconcile Ronnie and John, would not take no for an answer. He had to practically drag John to the door, but John did eventually give in.  
  
"They'll already be there," John said nervously as Roger sped down the road.  
  
"I know a short cut," Roger said proudly, as he cut down a random side road. "And Brian is a really slow driver."  
  
John gave him a doubtful look.  
  
"Believe me," Roger promised. "We'll be there first."  
  
\---

Roger was true to his word.

As Brian and Ronnie walked through the parking lot, they were both shocked when they ran directly into Roger.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Brian exclaimed.  
  
"Hitching a ride home with you," Roger said, as if it were obvious.  
  
"But..." Brian said, confused.  
  
Roger placed his car keys in Ronnie's hand. "Give these to Deaky for me, please."  
  
"Deaky?" Ronnie repeated stupidly.  
  
"Silly us, we completely forgot that it's Deaky's turn to take you to class," Roger said calmly, giving Brian a meaningful look. "He's waiting for you on the front steps, Ronnie. I told him he could use my car to get you two home."  
  
Brian opened his mouth to protest, but Roger was already shoving him back towards his van. "Have fun!" he shouted to Ronnie, before they both disappeared.  
  
Gripping Roger's car keys, Ronnie looked around wildly, trying to think of a way to escape the situation she was in. She realized that she could literally escape in Roger's car, but she would never do that to John, and so, taking in a shuddering breath, she walked to the front of the building.

As she approached the stairs, she saw that John was waiting for her on the steps, just as Roger promised.  With a heavy heart, Ronnie watched as John sat on the stairs alone, with his knees pressed together, staring at the ground, trying not to notice all of the happy couples that were filing past him up the stairs.  
  
As Ronnie began to nervously climb the stairs, John looked up and rising from his seat, held out a hand to help her up the rest of the way. But anxiety was clouding Ronnie's mind and she misinterpreted his meaning.  Instead of taking his hand, she placed Roger's keys in them. Shoving the keys in his jacket pocket, John bit back his disappointment.  
  
As they approached the front desk, Ronnie desperately tried to think of how she was going to introduce John to Delilah. She was running out of ideas.  
  
"Good evening, Mrs. Tetzlaff," Delilah said brightly.  
  
_Stop assuming I'm married_ , Ronnie thought bitterly. _It's MISS Tetzlaff.  
_  
"This _must_ be your husband."  
  
Before she could stop herself, Ronnie found herself whispering, "Yes."  
  
"Finally!" Delilah exclaimed. "Welcome, Mr. Tetzlaff."  
  
John flinched, before whispering, "Thank you."  
  
Feeling extremely guilty, Ronnie led John to the classroom. As they got into position and John awkwardly pulled Ronnie between his legs (he had already been fully warned about the various positions by Roger on the car ride there), he tried not to admit to himself how hurt he was that Ronnie wouldn't give him a chance to love her, but that she was entirely all right _pretending_ to be his wife. And he questioned at that moment why he had even come.  
  
The class proceeded quite smoothly, until Delilah announced they were going to try some restorative standing poses.  
  
"All right, mummies-to-be," she announced. "Stand with your back to your partner."  
  
Relieved that she didn't need to look John in the eye, Ronnie turned around.  
  
"And daddies," Delilah continued. "Snuggle in real close...that's it, right up against her."  
  
Ronnie closed her eyes uncomfortably as she felt John press himself against her, from head to toe.  
  
"Now, daddies, as a general rule, men have better upper body and hand strength. I want you to take your hands and slowly lift the uterus."  
  
_Lift the uterus!?_ Ronnie repeated frantically in her mind.   _What does that even mean?_

Ronnie heard John suck in his breath and she found herself feeling very sorry for the both of them.  Looking around nervously, she glanced at the other couples, to see how exactly you would go about lifting a uterus.  
  
With trembling hands, John reached down to Ronnie's stomach. Ronnie shivered as she felt his fingertips lightly trail down the sides of her round belly, but he stopped there, as if he were afraid to go down further.  
  
Luckily, Delilah came to the rescue. Kneeling before Ronnie, she took John's fingers and gently pulled his hands further down, forcing John to wrap his arms around Ronnie and rest his chin on her shoulder.  When Delilah placed John's hands against Ronnie's pubic bone, Ronnie's eyes widened. Delilah then positioned his hands so that he was cupping her belly and she instructed him to lift it.  
  
John did as he was instructed and Ronnie found herself letting out an inaudible sigh of relief, as she felt the weight and the pressure taken off of her back.  
  
"Now daddies, sway back and forth, like penguins."  
  
Still pressed tightly against her and holding her pregnant belly up, John began to slowly rock back and forth. Ronnie felt herself relaxing with the gentle swaying motion and without meaning to, she dropped her head back against John's shoulder.  
  
But then she felt how quickly John's heart was beating, pulsating endlessly into her back, and she lifted her head away. She could only imagine how he was feeling.  
  
"Now, ladies, turn and face your partner..."  
  
With a sinking heart, Ronnie turned in John's arms and stared straight ahead, at his neck.  
  
"...and put your head against his shoulder."  
  
Wanting nothing more than to run from the room screaming, Ronnie put her head against John's shoulder.  
  
"Daddies, put one arm around her waist, and with the other hand, slowly rub her back.  That's it, up and down."  
  
Ronnie had tried to put space between them, but when John put his arm around her waist, it inadvertently pushed them closer together. Holding her breath, she felt him begin to gently and methodically rub her back.  
  
"That's it, excellent. This is very calming for the mom-to-be, especially in labor."  
  
At that moment, Ronnie felt something wet on her neck.

Looking up at John, she could see in his eyes that he hadn't realized how hard this would be.  As another tear ran down John's face, she reached up, cupped his cheek in her hand, and brushed it away with her thumb.  
  
"All right, incredible job everyone!" Delilah said. "Now, education time!"  
  
John composed himself immediately and pulled away.  Ronnie sat on the floor with him and watched as all the other couples in the room held hands, or leaned against one another, and felt suddenly so incredibly lonely.  
  
Ronnie folded her hands in her lap and told herself to get used to it.  
  
\---  
The ride home was very tense and very silent. John was clearly distracted and when he drove through a stop sign for the third time, Ronnie said firmly, "John, pull over."  
  
John looked over at her in surprise.  
  
"Please!"  
  
John obeyed, slowing Roger's car and pulling to the side of the road. Ronnie exited the vehicle and after circling the car, she pulled John's door open.  
  
"Out," she said gently. "I'm driving the rest of the way home."  
  
John got out of the car and looked down at her questioningly.  
  
"John, surely you realized that you went through _three_ stop signs," Ronnie said, unable to keep the worry out of her voice.  
  
John turned and walked away from her. She watched sadly as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and looked into the distance, gazing at the lights of a nearby town burning brightly in the distance.  
  
Ronnie slowly followed. Taking John's arm, she lowered them both to the grass.  
  
"Deaky," she said gently, using his nickname to try to make things as normal between them as possible.  "Talk to me."  
  
John stared straight ahead at the lights.  "I suppose it's no secret how I feel about you," he said quietly.

"Is this because I introduced you as my husband? I am  _so_ sorry about that, I should have asked you, it just kind of slipped out, and they can be so judgmental, and - "

John shook his head.  "I didn't mind."

This was obviously about the night of the Who concert, then.  _Of course_ it was.

"I'm so sorry about the other night, John," she said, feeling her heart burn. "But I did it because I want you to find someone who's perfect for you. That someone isn't me." _Although I wish it was_ , she added to herself.  
  
"Ronnie, I...I don't want anyone else," John looked positively miserable. "I want _you_."  
  
"But you shouldn't."  
  
John looked hurt. "But I can't help it."  
  
"John, you deserve someone who is going to give you everything."  
  
"Why can't that be you?"  
  
"Because I have nothing left."  
  
"I don't believe that," John said firmly. "Ronnie, something happened that night. When you went to the restroom."

In the week since, he had been replaying the night in his head, over and over again, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.  The way she had smiled at him, and held his hand, and they had even shared ice cream...he had been almost certain she had felt the same way.  

Whenever he analyzed it, he always came back to that moment at the bathroom.  
  
Ronnie was shaking her head but feeling a bit braver, John turned towards her. "Things were going so well before then. And after you came back, everything was different."  
  
"That was when I realized we had to let each other go," Ronnie said simply.  
  
John hesitantly took her hand and asked, "But what made you realize that?"  
  
Ronnie said nothing.  
  
"P-please, Ronnie," John pleaded. "I need to know."  
  
"It was something Steve told me," Ronnie said finally.  If she didn't tell him now, the band probably would eventually.  
  
"Something he told you the night he was arrested?" John pressed. "You were supposed to tell me what he said."  
  
Ronnie looked at him in surprise.  She had forgotten about the bargain.  
  
"Remember? I told you that I meant w-what I said about..." John blushed, before continuing, "and you were going to tell me what he meant when he said 'too good for you'."  
  
"He said _you_ were too good for me, John," Ronnie said emotionally. "He said you deserved better than a dirty whore like me. That I couldn't offer you anything, not love, not a family, because all I had to offer was..." Ronnie looked down, embarrassed.  
  
"Yes?" John coaxed gently.  
  
"Sex."  
  
"Ronnie, that's not true," John said unsteadily. "You can't truly believe any of that."  
  
"It doesn't even...it doesn't _matter_ anymore," Ronnie said, fighting back tears. "What matters it that by letting you go, I'm giving you a better love story. The next time you take a girl to a concert, she's going to be wearing your ring and carrying your child. And she is going to love you _so_ much, John."  
  
Ronnie watched in dismay as John's face fell. "I don't want that love story unless you're in it."  
  
Swallowing a sob, Ronnie gently tugged her hands away and stood up. John scrambled to his feet and turned Ronnie to face him.  
  
"Just answer one question for me," he said quietly. "Please."  
  
"If I can," Ronnie said softly.  
  
"If none of this had ever happened - Steve, the pregnancy, the concerts - would you have given me a chance?" John asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Yes," Ronnie said without hesitation.  
  
John blinked back tears and said bravely, "Then I'm not going to give up on you."  
  
Ronnie sighed, knowing there was nothing she could say to that. If she agreed, she'd be giving him hope, and if she disagreed, they'd continue to argue about it. And so, instead of speaking, she wrapped her arms around him.  
  
John buried his face in her shoulder.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie hadn't told anyone, but the night of the Who concert, the nightmares returned.  
  
For the most part, she was able to sleep a little bit each night, but as the week dragged on, it was becoming increasingly difficult to sleep and she was getting less and less constructive rest every night.  
  
A couple of nights after the childbirth class with John, Ronnie sat in her bed in the dark, exhausted. Her head was throbbing from lack of sleep, and she felt dizzy and irritable, and she knew that if she didn't get a full night's sleep soon, she was probably going to go mad.  
  
That's when she remembered the night that Steve was arrested, and how well she had slept with John beside her. She wouldn't dare ask him again, but perhaps one of the other band members wouldn't mind a slumber party. Knowing that Roger would be away most of the night with a woman he had recently met at the supermarket, Ronnie opened her bedroom door, with the intention of going to see Freddie.  
  
But Freddie's door was wide open, and his room was dark. Brian's room was the same way. Looking out the window, she saw a light in the barn studio, and knew they were working.  Sighing in disappointment, she thought that she _could_ wait until they returned, but she didn't know when that would be and she was already  _so_ tired.  
  
Glancing at John's bedroom door, she saw warm light under the doorway, and knew he was awake.

Shaking her head firmly, Ronnie took a step back towards her room, but the thought of lying there alone and awake for the rest of the night was unbearable.  Feeling absolutely defeated, Ronnie knocked softly on John's door.  
  
John opened it, took one look at her face, and pulled her into his room.  
  
"Ronnie?" he whispered. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I can't sleep," Ronnie said miserably. "The nightmares are back and I haven't been able to truly sleep for a week and..."  
  
Without hesitation, John pushed her towards his bed.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ronnie whispered as she crawled onto the bed. "I shouldn't be doing this."  
  
_And especially not to you, Deaky_ , she thought to herself.  
  
John turned off his bedside lamp and getting into the bed beside her, pulled the blankets over them both. "I don't mind."  
  
As Ronnie became more comfortable, wrapped in blankets, darkness, and the thought that she wasn't currently alone, she slowly began to relax.  And although that was a significant improvement, sleep still wouldn't come.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
"Deaky?"   
  
"Would it be all right if I...if I held you?"  
  
Ronnie had to remind herself to breathe.  
  
"Just for a few moments," John added quickly. "I think I know a way to help you sleep. And then I'll let you go."

 _Please don't_ , Ronnie thought sleepily.   _Don't let me go._ And the moment she thought it, she scolded herself.  Where had that come from? The whole point was to _make_ him let her go!  
  
In response to John's request, Ronnie lifted his arm and put her head against his shoulder, trying to ignore how natural it felt.  
  
John wrapped one arm around her waist and with his other hand, began to rub her back slowly.  
  
Ronnie smiled slightly, realizing he was taking the lessons from the childbirth class and applying them to real life.  It was working; although her mind fought to stay awake and analyze how she felt in her current position, in Deaky's arms and in his bed, she found herself slowly beginning to fall asleep.  
  
John knew Ronnie was asleep when he heard her breathing even out. Feeling disappointed, he knew it was time to gently put her on the other side of the bed, like he said he would.  
  
But instead, he decided that he wasn't going to be _sweet_ and shy and predictable for once, and defiantly, he pulled Ronnie closer and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Ronnie," he whispered into her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nowhere to go but up now! :)
> 
> I can't tell you how much I appreciate your comments. Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me know what you think, and thank you everyone for reading.


	20. Chapter 20

When Ronnie woke the following morning, her first thought was that she felt safe, warm, and loved. Sighing in content, she slowly opened her eyes...  
  
...and froze as she realized she was wrapped in a pair of arms, and that her head was resting on someone's shoulder, and someone's long, brown hair was tickling her nose...  
  
 _Oh Deaky_ , she thought sadly.  
  
She hadn't planned to wake up like this, and her first instinct was to remove herself immediately and roll to her side of the bed, where she belonged.  
  
But she was _so_ comfortable...  
  
 _No!_ Ronnie thought. She had just spent a few evenings ago explaining to John why this couldn't be. She couldn't give in now.  
  
She tried to think of a way to slip out of John's grasp without disturbing him, but they were tangled too closely together. And besides, she didn't really _want_ to move...  
  
 _Fight it, Ronnie! Fight it!_  
  
Ronnie halfheartedly looked for an easy way out and gave up. There couldn't be any harm in it just this once, especially since if everything went according to plan, John would move on and marry the woman of his dreams, and Ronnie would die a lonely, old spinster.  
  
 _Which means you'll never be held like this again_ , she told herself. _So enjoy it now._  
  
Closing her eyes, she fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
\---  
  
The following night, Ronnie once more tried to sleep by herself, and was once more plagued by nightmares and restlessness. But her pride kept her from asking John to stay the night with her again, and two more long, agonizing nights passed in much the same way, before there was finally an intervention.  
  
The intervention occurred on a snowy night in December. The band and Ronnie were spending a quiet evening together in the parlor, engaged in various activities, as the hour grew late.  
  
Freddie had been tinkering away at the piano, trying out new melodies and occasionally plunging into a Christmas carol. As the clock in the hall struck midnight, he turned and saw a positively heartwarming sight on the sofa.   
  
With a grin, he stretched out his leg and nudged Brian with his toe.  
  
Brian, who had been studying The Obstetrics Handbook by the warm light of a lamp, his glasses halfway down his long nose, looked up and smiled. He, in turn, nudged John, who had been fiddling with some kind of electronic device that he had recently taken apart.  
  
On the sofa, Ronnie was fast asleep, curled up into as tightly of a ball as her pregnant belly would allow, and hugging the book she had been reading. Roger was also asleep, his head resting on a pillow that was propped up against Ronnie's rump. His magazine had fallen onto his face.  
  
"These long, cold nights are too much for him," Brian commented.  
  
"We better intervene before he suffocates," Freddie sighed, but Brian put out an arm to stop him, and nodded towards John.  
  
John had let the device fall to his lap and was watching Ronnie with a very soft expression. Freddie and Brian exchanged a meaningful glance.  
  
"It will be a shame to wake her," Brian said regretfully. "I think she's having trouble sleeping again."  
  
"Perhaps we can do it gently," Freddie suggested, "and by the time we get her upstairs, she'll still be sleepy."  
  
"John?" Brian said kindly. "Would you like to do the honors?"  
  
John, pulled out of his trance, shook his head. "N-no, thank you. I don't think she'd want that."  
  
"Why do you say that, darling?" Freddie asked.  
  
"I think she's trying to distance herself," John said quietly. "Ever since..." He trailed off, but Freddie and Brian already knew about the night of the childbirth class. They also knew about how, a few nights later, Ronnie had asked to stay with John and had woken up unexpectedly in his arms.  
  
"Oh, darling," Freddie said sadly to John, as he got up and plucked the magazine off of Roger's face. Rolling it up, he gave Roger's arse a good smack with it. "Rise and shine, sweetheart."  
  
Roger groaned. "Watch it!"  
  
Kneeling in front of Ronnie, Freddie gently reached out and began to lift her into a sitting position.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie felt as if she had only just fallen into that wonderful, dark place of sleep and so when she felt herself being dragged back to the surface, she resisted.  
  
"No," she whispered.  
  
She couldn't fall asleep alone in the darkness of her room, but surrounded by her friends in the warm, dimly lit parlor, sleep had come so effortlessly. And after being sleep deprived, it was very difficult to let that kind of blissful sleep go.  
  
"No!" she cried out and feeling gentle hands on her, she jerked awake completely and unwillingly opened her eyes. She was surprised to find herself in a sitting position, with Freddie holding her hands.  
  
"I'm sorry, darling," Freddie said softly.  
  
A tear slipped down Ronnie's cheek. "I'm so tired, Freddie."  
  
"I know," Freddie said soothingly, as he put an arm around her and helped her stand. "Let's get you upstairs."  
  
But once they reached the staircase, Freddie turned Ronnie to face him and said firmly, "Darling, you need to ask Deaky to sleep with you tonight."  
  
"What?" Ronnie whispered, as Freddie's face came into focus through the darkness of the hallway.   
  
"You won't be able to sleep otherwise," Freddie warned her. "You're going to make yourself ill, dear. We can't have that."  
  
Ronnie was shaking her head. "I can't."  
  
"Tell me why."  
  
"Because it's _wrong_ ," Ronnie said wearily.  
  
"Oh, but it feels so _right_ , doesn't it?" Freddie bit his lip to keep from smiling.  
  
" _Freddie!_ "  
  
"Darling," Freddie said in a low voice. "Brian, Roger, and I would gladly spend the night with you, but I believe John has proved that he is the only one who can keep your nightmares away."  
  
"Why do you say that?" Ronnie asked.  
  
"Remember the night you had a fever? Brian and I took turns staying with you that night, and you still had nightmares. It was only after Deaky came in that you were able to truly rest."  
  
"So that _was_ him," Ronnie said, more to herself than to anyone else.  
  
"It was," Freddie confirmed. "So, you'll ask him?"  
  
"Freddie, I can't," Ronnie said uneasily. "I can't become dependent on him to sleep. Then I will _never_ be able to fall sleep on my own."  
  
"Dependent?" Freddie smiled. "You're not going to become addicted to him, darling. He's not a drug."  
  
"He's not?" Roger asked sleepily as he walked past them on his way to the staircase, stifling a yawn.  
  
"You're clearly too exhausted to join this conversation," Freddie said sternly to him.  
  
Roger stopped on the stairs and lazily leaned over the banister. "You know the only cure for a drug, right? Detoxification. It'll be ODD, only for Ronnie this time."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Freddie asked suspiciously.  
  
"Operation Deaky Detox."  
  
Freddie rolled his eyes. "Off to bed with you!"  
  
Roger dragged himself up the staircase, singing under his breath.  
  
 _I'm in love with my car_  
 _Gotta feel for my automobile_  
  
"My God," Brian muttered, as he appeared and followed Roger up the stairs. "I hope that's not a song for the next album."  
  
Freddie turned back to Ronnie. "Just ask Deaky, dear."  
  
"Ask me what?" John asked, as he stepped into the hall.  
  
Freddie gave Ronnie an encouraging smile and a peck on the cheek. "I'll leave this to you. Goodnight, darling." And with that, he disappeared up the stairs.  
  
John leaned against the banister, looked down at Ronnie, and waited.  
  
Quite sure her stubborn pride would not allow her to get the words out, Ronnie lifted her eyes, gave him a pleading look, and, hoping he would understand, whispered, "Please?"  
  
"Of course," John whispered back and offered her his arm. Ronnie took it but still managed to stumble halfway up the stairs, falling into John and pinning him against the wall.  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled sleepily.  
  
"You really do need sleep," John observed, as he shyly placed his hands on her waist to steady her.  
  
Ronnie sighed and they continued their long journey to the second floor.  
  
\---  
  
As Ronnie lay in her bed next to Deaky, she found that something other than nightmares was keeping her awake. The little bundle of joy in her belly had decided that now was the perfect time to become active.  
  
Closing her eyes, Ronnie rolled from her back to her side and collided with John, who was lying on his side, facing her.  
  
As soon as Ronnie was pressed against him, John felt the movement of the baby, kicking through her stomach to his own. He drew in his breath quickly.  
  
Ronnie shifted, with every intention of making space between them, but John quickly reached out and touched her arm. "Wait."  
  
She froze, waiting.  
  
"M-may I?" John asked nervously.  
  
It took Ronnie a moment to realize what he meant, but when she finally understood, she smiled and said, "You don't need to ask. Of course you can."  
  
John placed his palm against Ronnie's belly and felt the movement under her skin.  
  
"You're lucky, Ronnie," he said wistfully.  
  
"How so?" Ronnie asked, surprised. She was quite sure that she was the unluckiest person alive.  
  
John wanted to tell her that she was lucky to be having a baby, that there would be so much love involved, and that he would consider himself lucky if she'd let him adopt the child.  
  
But he couldn't find the words to tell her what he truly meant, so he said, "Well, this little person growing in...inside of you. They're family. You'll never be alone, not truly."  
  
Ronnie bit her lip. She'd be alone if she decided to put it up for adoption. But that's a decision she hadn't made yet.  
  
"I've always wanted a big family," John said shyly.  
  
"One day you're going to have a _giant_ family," Ronnie said encouragingly.  
  
"Do you really think so?" John asked hopefully.  
  
"I know so," Ronnie said, absentmindedly reaching forward and brushing his hair away from his face. "Once you find that someone, you'll have a family before you know it."  
  
 _No_ , John thought. _You don't understand._ You're _my someone._  
  
"Perhaps," he said instead and hoped she couldn't sense his disappointment.  
  
As Ronnie began to fall asleep, John kept his hand on her belly and eventually, the constant movement ceased. Ronnie thought to herself that even her baby needed John in order to sleep at night.  
  
\---  
  
The next day, Ronnie and the band traveled along the snowy road to the supermarket to get some much needed essentials. Brian had suggested that they be prepared, in case they ever got snowed in, considering they were living pretty much in the middle of nowhere.  
  
Once inside, everyone went their separate ways.   
  
As Freddie disappeared into the wine aisle, Brian called out, "That's not what I meant by essentials!"  
  
"Well what _did_ you mean, darling?" Freddie asked tartly. "Be more specific!"  
  
Ronnie grinned and leaned against the shopping cart. She had just started to daydream, when she suddenly saw Roger and John talking to two very pretty women.  
  
"Who are they?" Ronnie asked curiously and Freddie poked his head out of the wine aisle long enough to take a look.  
  
"Oh, that's the woman Roger met here and went on a date with," Freddie said with a smirk. "It appears she has a friend."  
  
Ronnie watched as the group talked and as John shoved his hands shyly in his pockets, nodded, and smiled politely.  
  
She slowly began to feel an unfamiliar sensation that was _very_ uncomfortable, a sensation that started somewhere near her heart and moved down to burn in her belly. The feeling only intensified when the pretty friend reached out to shake John's hand formally but didn't let go.  
  
As Ronnie watched them clasp hands, she thought to herself with a sinking feeling that the woman was probably enamored with John already. Even though John was painfully shy, he was still a rock star in his own right, with his shoulder length hair and his tall stature and long fingers and...  
  
Ronnie's chin dropped to her hand. And that strange but wonderful color of his eyes (were they green or were they gray?) and the small gap between his teeth and his unrestrained laugh when he found something funny and...  
  
She wrapped her arms around herself as the pretty friend leaned forward to whisper into John's ear.  
  
And his sweet smile which was literally sunshine and the quiet manner in which he sometimes spoke and the way he gave you all of his attention when you had something to say...  
  
Just as Freddie emerged from the aisle with three bottles of wine, Ronnie pressed a hand to her heart, turned, and charged down the dairy aisle. Within a few seconds, Freddie and the cart had caught up to her.   
  
"Where are you going, darling?"  
  
"I need ice cream," Ronnie said bitterly.  
  
"Is that why you're upset?" Freddie asked curiously.  
  
"I'm not upset," Ronnie said, as they stopped in front of the ice cream freezer. "I just have heart burn, that's all."  
  
Freddie gave her a knowing look. "That's not heart burn, darling. It's called jealousy."  
  
"I am _not_ jealous!"  
  
"Oh, but I think you are."  
  
"I'm the one who told John to go out and find someone else," Ronnie pointed out. "I don't care if he goes out with Roger's supermarket girlfriend's friend."  
  
Freddie stood next to Ronnie as they gazed at their reflections in the freezer door.   
  
"Then why are there tears in your eyes, dear?" Freddie asked very softly.  
  
Ronnie sniffed the tears back. "Because look! They're out of chocolate ice cream."  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie barely said a word on the ride home and once everything was put away and the boys had all wandered off, she went into the kitchen and pulled down a sack of flour.  
  
She had read somewhere that when you were feeling angry or sad, it was best to channel all of that energy into something good. Slamming the flour onto the counter, Ronnie decided she was going to turn all her misery into chocolate cupcakes.  
  
Referencing an old cookbook she had found in the cabinet, Ronnie stirred and whisked and violently cracked eggs and tried to ignore her feelings. Slipping the cupcakes into the oven, Ronnie put her hands on her hips in satisfaction, feeling like a warrior.  
  
Until she heard the soft sounds of the piano coming from the other room.  
  
It was the song that Freddie had played on the night that John had asked Ronnie to dance with him, the one he hadn't had lyrics for at the time. Well, he had lyrics now, and although she tried not to, Ronnie found herself listening.  
  
 _Love of my life, you've hurt me_  
 _You've broken my heart and now you leave me_

Everything Ronnie had tried to shut out by baking suddenly washed over her and not watching where she was going, she bumped into the counter and knocked the sack of flour over.

_Love of my life, can't you see?_   
_Bring it back, bring it back_

Ronnie watched as the sack crashed to the floor, dumping flour all over the place, and thought to herself, _Damn Freddie for making me feel feelings._ She slowly sunk to the floor.

 _Don't take it away from me, because you don't know_  
 _What it means to me_  
  
Sitting on the flour-streaked floor, Ronnie picked up the empty flour sack and hugged it to her chest.  
  
\---  
  
The distinct smell of something burning made Freddie stop on his way up the staircase. With visions of the house erupting into flames in his mind, he hurried into the kitchen and yanked open the oven. Batting furiously at the smoke that flew at him, he jammed on an oven mitt, took out the tray of cupcakes, and tossed them onto the stove. Peering at them, he saw they were blacker than his favorite stage leotard.  
  
He was almost certain that this was Roger's fault, and had just turned to go find him, when he almost tripped over Ronnie, who was still sitting on the floor, hugging the flour bag.  
  
Freddie knelt before her, tentatively touched her shoulders with his fingertips, and said gently, "Darling?"  
  
Right on cue, a tear ran down Ronnie's face, cutting a clean path through the flour that dusted her cheeks. It was utterly poetic, but Freddie forced himself to put his creativity on a leash so he could focus on the current situation.  
  
"Is this because the supermarket was out of chocolate ice cream?" Freddie asked sympathetically.  
  
Ronnie's lower lip trembled. "O-obviously."  
  
Freddie sat down next to Ronnie, resting his arse in a soft pile of flour.  
  
"Or is it more to do with the fact that Deaky may have met someone at the market?"  
  
Ronnie inhaled sharply.  
  
"Jealousy," Freddie said knowingly. "It gives you no warning, my dear. It takes you by surprise."  
  
"I'm _not_..." Ronnie trailed off, thought about it, and then promptly burst into tears.  
  
Freddie immediately pulled her into a warm hug, crushing the flour bag between them.  
  
"I love him, Freddie," Ronnie sobbed into his shoulder. "I tried not to, but I can't help it."  
  
"There is absolutely nothing preventing you from being together," Freddie said firmly, as he rocked her back and forth. "You're standing in your own way, darling."  
  
"I pushed him away because I thought it was the right thing to do," Ronnie whispered.  
  
"The right thing for who, darling? Steve?"  
  
At that moment, they heard John's concerned voice.  "Ronnie?"   
  
Ronnie immediately pulled away from Freddie and wiped at her eyes furiously. When she glanced up, she came face to face with John, who was kneeling before her and Freddie, his eyes questioning.  
  
Ronnie looked away. "Just a bad day, that's all."  
  
"More like a nasty train wreck of a day!" Freddie exclaimed, before turning to John and explaining, "The market was out of chocolate ice cream, so clearly Ronnie resorted to having to make chocolate cupcakes on her own, which she has burnt quite impressively."  
  
"But you don't like to bake," John said to Ronnie, sounding a tad confused.  
  
Ronnie sighed and got to her feet. "You're right, I don't."  
  
As Freddie also stood up, he took one look at Ronnie, gave her a frown of disapproval, and began to briskly brush her down all over. "You have flour all over your arse, dear, just like a biscuit."

Although Ronnie tried to protest, John and Freddie insisted on helping her clean up the kitchen.  When their task was done, she thanked them, angrily tossed her cupcakes into the trash, and was about to wash her hands, when she felt John turn her away from the sink.  
  
Armed with a wet cloth, he began to gently wipe the flour off her face. Stunned, Ronnie let him, not able to take her eyes off of him. He also wiped the remaining moisture from under her eyes and putting aside the cloth, said, "If you'd like, I could take you out for ice cream."  
  
Ronnie wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed, but the thought of the woman in the supermarket - who he may or may not be going out with, Ronnie had no idea - made her reconsider.  
  
John shifted uncomfortably in the silence, and added, "The diner down the road...I mean, I'm sure they don't ever r-run out of chocolate ice cream and..."  
  
In spite of everything, Ronnie found herself smiling. "I'll go change."  
  
Once she had disappeared from the kitchen, John turned to Freddie and gave him a huge smile.  
  
Freddie looked at him suspiciously. "How much of our conversation did you hear?"  
  
"Everything," John said, sounding quite relieved.  
  
Freddie grinned. "Well, now you know, darling. She loves you."  
  
Roger strolled into the kitchen at that exact moment. "You mean she finally admitted it?"  
  
"She did indeed," Freddie said happily, as he pulled John in for a one-armed hug.  
  
"Well, it's about time, mate!" Roger said as he slapped John on the back.  
  
John grinned like a fool and actually dared to believe that things were going to change.  
  
\---  
  
"Well, you look a bit the worse for wear, honey," the diner waitress said sympathetically to Ronnie, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks.  
  
Ronnie looked up pitifully at the waitress and tried to smile but failed.  
  
"How far along are you, dear?" The waitress asked kindly.  
  
"Seven months," Ronnie said wearily.  
  
The waitress glanced at John, before turning back to Ronnie with a smile. "Well, it looks like you have someone to take good care of you."  
  
Ronnie glanced at John, the corner of her mouth slowly lifting into a smile. "Yeah, he's all right."  
  
John pretended to be offended.  
  
But after the waitress had rushed off with their order, John's serious expression returned and he asked, "Is something else bothering you, Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie looked up at him in surprise.  
  
"I mean, besides the ice cream and the cupcakes?"  
  
Ronnie folded her arms around herself and looked away. "No. I'm just so happy for you that you found someone."  
  
"Found someone?" John asked, clearly perplexed.  
  
"The girl at the supermarket," Ronnie said, daring to look at him. "Aren't you and Roger going to double date?"  
  
John tried to stifle the smile that was threatening to spread across his face. "No."  
  
"No?" Ronnie repeated.  
  
"No," John said softly. "I told her I was seeing someone."  
  
He was already seeing someone? Although she knew she was being unreasonable, Ronnie felt her heart sink lower than ever. "That's great news, Deaky."  
  
"Perhaps. The only problem is that she won't see me in return." He gave Ronnie a meaningful look.  
  
Ronnie stared at John as the waitress returned with her ice cream, as well as a milkshake for John.  
  
"Me?" Ronnie asked, sticking her spoon in her sundae a bit harder than she meant to.  
  
"You," John confirmed, letting out a breath.  
  
"John, I told you that you could move on."  
  
"I don't want to," John said. "I guess I'll just have to get used to being alone forever. Like you."  
  
Ronnie narrowed her eyes at him. "I see what you're doing. You're trying to guilt me."  
  
John leaned forward. "Is it working?"  
  
Ronnie stared at him in wonder, before thrusting a spoonful of ice cream at him. "Try this."  
  
John once again felt his stomach do a flip, just like when they had shared ice cream on the night of the Who concert. As he put her spoon into his mouth, he thought to himself how effortlessly she had changed the subject.  
  
Handing the spoon back to her, John said bravely, "Wouldn't you say that even just one year of love is better than a lifetime alone?"  
  
Ronnie looked at him in shock as his words sunk in.  
  
"Think about it," he said softly.  
  
Ronnie nodded absentmindedly and said slowly, "I'll think about it."  
  
But what she was really thinking was that at least she could rest easy with the knowledge that John didn't know how she felt. Thank God John didn't know that she was consumed by jealousy and by love.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie found out she was wrong later that night, when she was once again sitting in the parlor with the band. She was flipping through a baking magazine, thinking that perhaps she should give it another go since people always said how therapeutic it was, when she felt a pair of eyes on her.  
  
Glancing up, she saw Roger on the loveseat, smiling at her. Confused, Ronnie looked around to make sure that his smile was aimed at her, and when it was clear that it was, she smiled awkwardly back and raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Look at you two!" Roger blurted out.  
  
Ronnie turned her head and looked at John, who was sitting beside her on the sofa and inspecting the device from the night before.  
  
Not sure what Roger meant, Ronnie motioned to Roger and Brian in turn and said, "Look at _you_ two!"  
  
Roger shook his head, still grinning. " _No_ Ronnie, I'm just so happy that you finally told Deaky how you feel about him!"  
  
The magazine slipped out of Ronnie's fingers. "What?" she whispered.  
  
Much too late, Freddie realized that Roger had entered the kitchen earlier in the day only to catch the very last part of their conversation and so there was no way he could have known what had really happened.  Turning around at the piano, he shook his head slowly at Roger.  
  
"You did?" Brian said in surprise, looking up from The Obstetrics Handbook. "Bravo Ronnie!"  
  
Roger furrowed his brow, unsure of why his comment had caused so much confusion. "So you must be official, now that Ronnie admitted she loves you - "  
  
"Ronnie didn't actually _tell_ Deaky anything," Freddie said quietly. "He over..." He stopped abruptly and glanced at John.  
  
John looked at his hands. "I overheard her telling Freddie that."  
  
Ronnie flinched, as if she had been slapped. Turning to John, she said in disbelief, "You heard all of that?"  
  
"Yes," John said softly, forcing himself to meet her eyes.  
  
"But you didn't say anything," Ronnie whispered, as if that fact alone would make the entire situation go away.  
  
"I was waiting for the right time," John replied, as his cheeks burned.  
  
"The diner?" Ronnie suggested, feeling her throat go numb with tears.  
  
At a loss for words and not able to withstand the intensity of her gaze any longer, John looked away.  
  
Ronnie opened the baking magazine once more, but she couldn't see the words through the tears in her eyes. Chocolate cupcakes wouldn't solve this problem. Tossing the magazine to the side, Ronnie bid everyone goodnight.  
  
As she walked past the loveseat, Roger took her by the hand. Ronnie looked down at him and waited.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ronnie," he said sincerely, looking positively racked with guilt.  
  
"Don't be," Ronnie said quietly. "You didn't know." And giving his hand a squeeze, she left the room.  
  
Freddie sat beside John on the sofa and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Still looking at his hands, John took a deep breath and said unsteadily, "I always thought that if only she f-felt the same way, I would be so happy."  
  
Freddie squeezed John's shoulder, urging him to go on.  
  
"So why do I feel so terrible?"   
  
"You feel terrible because Ronnie feels terrible," Brian said sadly. "Unfortunately, that's called love."  
  
" _i_ feel terrible," Roger muttered and Brian patted his knee sympathetically.  
  
"Let me work on her, darling," Freddie said to John, and John reluctantly nodded.  
  
\---  
  
Bursting into her bedroom, Ronnie shut the door tightly and locked it. Pacing the room, she took deep breaths as she fought back tears, fanned herself - why was it so _hot_ \- and tried to let go of her irrational fears.  
  
John _knew_. He knew how she felt about him, and he had known that entire time they were in the diner, and she wasn't _ready_ for him to know. She was afraid that now that he knew that she loved him, it would give him the green light to touch her, to kiss her, to...  
  
Damn Steve for instilling in her this stupid fear of being touched, of being loved!  
  
With Steve, she had been confident. She had never been thin per say but she had carried her curves well and had - in Freddie's words - embraced her sexuality for one night. But now her body had changed so drastically and Steve had fucked with her mind and the thought of being in a relationship was agonizing.  
  
Stripping off her clothes, Ronnie pulled on a giant t-shirt that went down to her knees, knowing it was too hot for pajama bottoms. Seriously, had Roger cranked the heat? She glanced at the door once more, sighed, and rolled her eyes.  
  
 _Honestly, Ronnie. Unlock the door!  What if there's an emergency?_  
  
Ronnie unlocked the door, thrust open the bedroom window, and welcomed the snowflakes that swirled in. Ignoring her aching back, she pushed the armchair over to the open window, curled up in it, and tried not to think.  
  
She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but after awhile, she heard the door open. She quickly closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. She scolded herself at that moment for not dressing a bit more decently, clad in only her oversized t-shirt, but then she took a moment to congratulate herself for wearing underwear.  
  
When she heard the window being shut, Ronnie inadvertently opened her eyes to see John standing before her with a blanket.  Ronnie awkwardly sat up, pulling her t-shirt down lower.  
  
Trying not to look at her bare thighs, John carefully wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to a standing position. He then sat in the chair and pulled her onto his lap. Covering them with the blanket, he reclined the chair backwards, which allowed him to turn her sideways once more and hold her more comfortably.  
  
After a few moments, he felt Ronnie take his hand and press something into his palm. John didn't need light to know that she had just handed him money.  
  
"What's this for?" he asked.  
  
"This afternoon," Ronnie said, not looking up at him. "For the ice cream."  
  
Feeling like he had been punched in the gut, John put the money back into her hand and closed her fingers around it. "No," he whispered. "It was on me."  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "I want to pay you back," she said as she handed the money back to him.  
  
"Ronnie, it was nothing," he said, trying not to show how hurt he was that she wouldn't let him pay for something as insignificant as ice cream.  He put the money back into her hand and closed his fingers around hers.  
  
Ronnie tugged her hand free and shoved the money down one of John's front pockets. As he felt her hand brush his thigh, he sucked in a breath. Ronnie quickly pulled her hand away and leaned her hip against the pocket, denying him access to the money. 

She wanted to tell him that she was paying him back to protect herself from the possibility of the diner trip being considered a date.  It was irrational but it was clearly a defense mechanism, resulting from how embarrassed she was that he had learned that she loved him and that he had heard her admit it while  _crying_.  But instead, she stared at him defiantly, as if daring him to dump her onto the floor to get to the cash.  
  
"Give me just one year," John whispered suddenly.  
  
Ronnie hadn't been expecting that.  She thought instantly of John's words at the diner.   _Just one year of love is better than a lifetime alone...  
  
_ "One year," John said quietly.  "And if you're right and it doesn't work out, then I  _will_ let you go."

Ronnie bit her lip.  
  
"What are you afraid of?" John asked softly.  
  
"Everything," Ronnie whispered.

"One year," John repeated.  " _Please_."

"Give me a week to think about it," Ronnie begged.

John looked doubtful.

"You're asking me for a year," Ronnie said gently.  "The least you can give me is a few days."  
  
John finally nodded.  "A-alright."  
  
Ronnie sat awkwardly on John's lap, not allowing herself to lean into him, not feeling like she  _could_ after shoving money in his pocket and evading his important request.  But the moment John pulled her closer, she put her head on his shoulder and after a few moments, fell fast asleep.  
  
John leaned his cheek against hers and tried not to think about how his heart felt just as broken as it had on the night of the Zeppelin concert.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to get there, I promise. :) The next chapter will be a definitive turning point.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for your comments and for reading. You guys really do motivate me!


	21. Chapter 21

**December 24, 1973**  
**Christmas Eve Dinner  
**  
The entire table was completely silent.  
  
It was the most awkward Christmas Eve dinner that Brian had ever had the pleasure to attend and it hadn't even _started_ yet. The problem wasn't that no one wanted to be the first one to dig into the hot dishes that were lining the middle of the table. No, nobody actually _knew_ what the problem was but the tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

And the tension was affecting literally every single person at the table. To his left, Roger was fidgeting nervously (Brian was very much surprised he hadn't started spewing out phrases of anxiety yet) and to his right, Ronnie was busying herself taking the longest sip of water ever. Freddie was anxiously rearranging the silverware on his napkin and John...well, John was just staring at his empty plate.  
  
_That's it,_ Brian thought to himself. Everyone was so quiet because something was clearly troubling Deaky and everyone knew it, yet no one knew what was ailing him. Now that Brian thought about it, he realized that John had made himself scarce for most of the day and whenever he did appear, he was much quieter than usual...which was certainly saying something. But the startling thing was that he was obviously trying to act normal but failing miserably.  
  
Brian suddenly felt an uncharacteristic stab of self-doubt in his chest. Was he the one who had caused John so much distress? Perhaps what he had said about Ronnie a few days ago had truly worried poor Deaky...  
  
**December 20, 1973  
**  
"You gave her an ultimatum?" Freddie asked in surprise, as he sat with John and Brian at the kitchen table the morning after John had asked Ronnie to give him one year.  
  
"Well, no," John said uncertainly. "I was nice about it."  
  
"An imposition, then?" Freddie demanded.  
  
"No, Freddie," John said, shaking his head.  
  
"So it was a requisition?"  
  
"It sounds like it was more of a simple request," Brian said reasonably. "Nothing quite as dramatic as you're hoping for, Fred."  
  
At that moment, Roger entered the kitchen, holding a very dead flower. The rest of the band watched in fascination as he filled a glass with water, stuck the flower in it, and placed it carefully on a tray.  
  
Roger looked up, saw the questioning glances aimed his way, and said defensively, "It took me _forever_ to find this outside, what with all the snow and ice and shit out there."  
  
Deciding it was best to ignore their drummer, Brian turned back to Freddie and John. "I've been thinking about Ronnie a lot lately."  
  
"Come now, Bri, you know that's Deaky's job," Freddie said with a mischievous grin, and John blushed.  
  
"Let me rephrase that," Brian said with a small smile. "I've been thinking about Ronnie's _situation_ a lot lately. And I think I know exactly what is going on."  
  
"And what's that?" Freddie asked curiously.  
  
"It's all down to how she's feeling," Brian said as he held up his fingers, ready to explain himself with scientific hand gestures and movements. "Think of it this way. Before Ronnie became pregnant, how was she _feeling_?"  
  
"Like she wanted to shag Steve?" Roger guessed from his place at the toaster.

"That's not exactly a _feeling_ , darling," Freddie muttered.  
  
"No," Brian said to Roger, but then thought about it and said, "Well, I don't know actually, but we know she was feeling lonely because she told us that's the reason she turned to Steve in the first place. And at the time, she was still grieving for the loss of her parents. She was also feeling an extraordinary amount of guilt about her night with Steve, which slowly began to destroy her self-esteem."  
  
Freddie was nodding slowly. "Go on."  
  
"While pregnant, she continued to feel that loss of self-esteem as her body changed," Brian continued. "Along with fear that she would be bringing a child into this world alone and dread that she would have to give up her job touring with Queen. Then, she and Deaky were held at gunpoint on the night of the Zeppelin concert, and a new kind of fear was introduced as she realized Steve was stalking her. And from then on came the post-traumatic stress symptoms, like the nightmares she was experiencing, which led to lack of sleep. Not to mention the enormous amount of stress she placed on herself when she learned how much she had hurt Deaky, which in turn led to her bleeding episode."  
  
Roger, fascinated by Brian's account, was trying to butter toast and watch the table at the same time.  
  
"Add onto that her confusion about her feelings for Deaky," Brian went on. "And her wish to be with him even though she feels like she can't. And her apprehension because honestly, I don't know if she's ever been in a real relationship before. Plus anticipation as her due date gets closer. And all of that isn't even counting all of the pregnancy hormones she's experiencing, which are likely magnifying all of her other emotions tenfold."  
  
"Shit," Roger murmured.  
  
"Thank you, Dr. May!" Freddie exclaimed. "It would appear you should have been a psychiatrist. Why are you in this band again?"  
  
Brian leaned back with a satisfied smirk, but his smile disappeared when he saw the look on John's face.  
  
"You could always wrap up your assertation of Ronnie's emotional state and give it to her as a Christmas present," Freddie suggested, but as he followed Brian's concerned gaze and saw John's miserable expression, his smile disappeared.  
  
"It's no wonder she won't give me a chance," John said very quietly. "How can I ever expect to be enough for her in the face of all _that_?"  
  
"Don't say that, darling," Freddie said firmly. "You _are_ enough."  
  
"Exactly," Brian agreed. "My point was, don't take anything personally, Deaky. It's been a rather stressful year for our Ronnie..."

Brian trailed off and frowned as Roger walked past the table with the tray, which contained the dead flower in a water glass, orange juice in a tea cup, a rather dark piece of buttered toast with a lopsided jam smiley face, and the last page of the morning newspaper.  
  
"Where are you going with all that?" Brian asked, bewildered.  
  
Roger stopped. "It's for Ronnie. To say I'm sorry about last night."  
  
"Because nothing says I'm sorry like dead flowers and burnt toast," Brian said politely.  
  
"It's the thought that counts," Roger said tersely.  
  
"Do you want me to make something for you to take up to her?" Brian offered graciously. "Perhaps an egg?"  
  
"You can keep your fancy eggs," Roger retorted as he disappeared from the kitchen, before sticking his head back into the room and adding, "But you can make me one, if you'd like."  
  
**Christmas Eve Dinner**  
  
No, Brian decided. That couldn't have been it. John had already known to a certain extent how Ronnie was feeling and he had accepted it.  
  
Deciding it was finally time to get this awkward dinner on a roll (no pun intended, he thought smartly), Brian passed a dish to Ronnie.  
  
Ronnie absentmindedly accepted the plate as she contemplated the mood at the table and wondered why John could barely look anyone in the eye. She somehow felt responsible, but she hadn't even given him her response yet regarding the question of being his girlfriend.  
  
Unless he was upset about the money...  
  
**December 20, 1973**  
  
When Ronnie opened her eyes the morning after John asked her to give him a year, she was surprised to find herself tucked under the blankets in her bed. Lifting her head, she glanced around the room and saw that she was alone and the armchair was back where it belonged.  
  
Flexing her stiff fingers, she felt something in her right hand, and holding it up saw that it was the money she had shoved down John's front pocket the night before. Groaning, she threw it onto the floor.  
  
She had one week to seriously think things over. Sitting up, Ronnie did the calculations in her head and realized the week's end would fall on December 25th.  
  
Horrified, Ronnie covered her eyes with her hand. How could her answer even _be_ no on Christmas? It would ruin Christmas for John not only this year, but for years to come. Possibly forever.  
  
_Well, no pressure, Ronnie,_ she thought darkly just as there was a knock on the door.  
  
"Come in," she said sleepily and was surprised to see Roger stumble into her bedroom with a tray.  
  
"I made you breakfast," he said proudly, as he set the tray on her lap.  
  
Ronnie glanced down at the tray with the dead flower and smiley face toast and couldn't help but grin. "Thank you, Rog," she said sincerely.  
  
"It's to apologize for last night," Roger said guiltily as he sat on the bed with her.  
  
"You don't need to apologize," Ronnie reminded him. "It wasn't your fault."  
  
She lifted the newspaper page off the tray as a headline announcing an upcoming concert caught her eye. "What's this?" she asked curiously.  
  
Roger shrugged. "I wasn't sure if you were one of those people who likes to read the paper in the morning, so I snuck a page away from Bri's newspaper, just in case."  
  
Skimming the article, Ronnie read that in a few months' time, Yes would be performing nearby. And if she remembered correctly, Yes was one of John's favorite bands.  
  
"This is perfect," she whispered.  
  
Roger looked at the smiley face on the piece of toast and nodded. "It is quite good."  
  
Ronnie handed the page to Roger. "I think I know what to get Deaky for Christmas."  
  
Roger scanned the page, before saying, "I think you've nailed it. I mean, I like Yes. They're a good band. But John _really_ likes them."  
  
Looking over Roger's shoulder, Ronnie saw the sale date and realized she had to get tickets immediately. The thought that they may already be sold out made her feel physically ill.  
  
"They're a bit too proggy for me," Roger was prattling on. "What was their most recent release? It literally just came out a couple weeks ago... _Tales from Topographic_... _Oceans_! Yes, Oceans, that's it. It's literally four twenty minute songs and..."  
  
"Will you take me today?" Ronnie asked hopefully. "To buy tickets?"  
  
Roger grinned. "Of course. We should really start Christmas shopping, shouldn't we?"  
  
\---  
  
Thirty minutes later, Ronnie was jogging - yes, _jogging_ \- down the stairs to meet Roger to go on their Christmas shopping escapade. She had a fairly good idea what she was going to get the rest of the band for Christmas, but for weeks she had been stressing about what to get John. And now that she had the perfect gift in mind, she felt revitalized.  
  
As she stepped off the last stair, she bumped right into John, who was coming out of the kitchen.  
  
"Oh, hello," John said with his sweet smile.  
  
Taking John's hand, Ronnie closed his fingers around the diner money. She then retreated to the front door and opening it, she turned, gave him a bright smile, and said, "Good morning, Deaky!"  
  
When she was gone, John opened his hand and when he saw what was there, sighed.  
  
**Christmas Eve Dinner**  
  
Ever since that moment, they had been passing the diner money back and forth, each of them too obstinate to accept it. Ronnie wasn't sure that was what could have possibly caused such a dramatic mood change in John, but nevertheless, she bit down on her lip nervously as she watched John unfold his napkin.  
  
The diner money fell out of the white folds and onto the table.  
  
Ronnie watched as John slowly picked it up, realized what it was, and lifted his eyes, gazing at her from under his eyebrows. Usually, John's emotions could be read clearly on his face and in his eyes, but Ronnie couldn't discern how he was feeling at all at that moment. He looked away and shoved the money into his pocket.  
  
"Pass the salt please?" Roger asked.  
  
Ronnie and John reached for the salt shaker at the same time. As John's fingers brushed hers, he pulled his hand away, as if he had been burned.  
  
Whatever was happening with John, Ronnie felt like she had made it worse. She unhappily passed the salt to Roger, who was deep in his own thoughts about the rather harrowing experience that the band and Ronnie had shared yesterday.  
  
Is that why Deaky had the blues? He was fairly certain that he had upset just about everyone the day before. And Deaky and Ronnie had almost suffered death by Christmas tree...  
  
**December 23, 1973  
**  
Up until approximately five p.m. on the twenty-third, it appeared that everyone had silently agreed that there would be no tree this year, considering they weren't home and the holidays had come up so quickly and everyone was feeling a bit unorganized. That is, everyone except Roger, who had merely forgotten, and when he finally remembered, he burst into the living room at dusk and demanded that they go in search of a tree. Now.  
  
And although Brian begged him to allow them all to wait until the next morning, Roger insisted it would be too late and "honestly, Brian, why even bother then," and so they all bundled up as best as they could and went out into the snow.  
  
That's how the band and Ronnie found themselves walking through the snowy forest at sundown, in pursuit of the perfect Christmas tree. Ronnie wrapped her arms around herself as they trudged through knee high drifts, dreading her decision to come along. The boys had suggested she stay safe and warm in the house but she hadn't wanted to be left behind.  
  
But now she was cold, and tired, and couldn't keep her balance in the deep snow, due to her center of gravity being obviously off. When Ronnie stumbled and teetered sideways yet again, John and Freddie came to her rescue. Freddie hooked her arm through his and held onto her tightly, while John wrapped a firm arm around her waist and guided her forward.

After approximately fifteen minutes of snow trudging, Freddie - who had grown progressively crotchety the further they went into the woods - stopped and pointed at a shadow.  
  
"There," he said irritably. "How about that one?"  
  
Roger shined his flashlight on the shadow and saw a fat bush. "That is _not_ a tree!"

"Well, how about a lovely Christmas bush this year instead?"

"Well aren't you a regular Mister Scrooge!" Roger retorted. "If we wanted a bush we would have stolen the one next to the porch!"  
  
"How about that tree?" Brian suggested, pointing a few feet away.  
  
"Too small," Roger replied, shaking his head.  
  
Every suggestion after that was either too skinny, too fat, too ugly, or not rock'n roll enough in Roger's eyes. It wasn't until they came across a rather full, tall tree that Roger let out an excited gasp and shined his light impatiently on it. "This one, Bri!"

Brian frowned. "What if it's too tall? I highly doubt that is going to fit in the living room."  
  
"Then we'll cut the top off," Roger said enthusiastically, and sighing, Brian revved up the chainsaw he had found in the barn studio.

As Brian prepared to cut down the tree, and Roger and Freddie stood on the other side to catch it as it fell, John glanced at Ronnie. None of them had packed gloves because no one had been expecting to be traveling through the cold forest at night in search of a tree, and they hadn't been able to find any mittens at the farmhouse, and as a result, Ronnie had tightly tucked her hands under her armpits.  
  
John unzipped his jacket pockets and gently pulled Ronnie's hands free. He then tucked them into his jacket pockets and wrapped his fingers around hers. Ronnie looked up at him and gave him a grateful smile.  
  
Eventually, complete darkness arrived and as they all began the journey home, John continued to hold Ronnie's hand as he lifted the chainsaw with his free hand, following Brian, Freddie, and Roger, who were carrying the tree.

But after a few minutes, Brian realized that nothing looked familiar and that they were likely lost.

"This isn't the way we came," he said as he stopped and surveyed their surroundings.

"What do you mean, _this isn't the way we came_?" Freddie asked sharply.  
  
"I put a pine cone on a giant rock on our way here and we should have come across it by now," Brian remarked, before pointing at the ground. "Also, our footsteps end here."

"That's impossible," Freddie protested. "Footsteps can't just disappear."

"It was probably the ghost," Roger whispered from the back of the tree.

"The ghost didn't erase our footsteps!" Freddie said, sounding on the verge of panic. "What would be the point of that? I can't imagine a bigger waste of time than covering a mere mortal's tracks for no reason..."

"They don't do anything for a _reason,_ Freddie!" Roger said as they dropped the tree into the snow. "They're dead!"

"Just like _we_ are going to be dead!" Freddie said in alarm, grabbing Roger's arms. "Oh my _God_ Roger, they're going to find our dead bodies draped over the Christmas tree!"

" _Stop_!" Roger cried out. "Stop _right now_ , Freddie."

"No one is going to die," Brian said calmly.

"The wolves are going to get us - or maybe the bears will come first," Freddie said, pacing through the snow anxiously.  "Can you imagine the headlines?  _Up and coming band and roadie extraordinaire ripped to shreds in forest while searching for holiday tree_."

He then stopped as something else occurred to him "Or worse, we'll starve!"

"Not if we decide to eat you!" Roger said, clearly agitated.

"It _would_ put you out of your misery," John said reasonably to Freddie.

Freddie gasped. " _Deaky_!" He turned to Roger and said, "You wouldn't!"

"Then _shut up_ because you're scaring the shit out of me!"  
  
"We all need to stay calm!" Brian said loudly.

Ronnie wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "S-stop f-fighting," she whispered, her teeth chattering.  
  
Freddie immediately reached out and rubbed her arms briskly. "We're sorry, darling."

Brian pulled The Obstetrics Handbook out of his pocket.

"For Christ's sake, Bri, put the book away!" Roger exclaimed. "That's not going to help us get home!"

Brian held up a hand. "Calm yourself for just one moment, please! I want to see if there's anything about pregnant women and exposure to the cold."

"What good is that going to do?" Freddie asked. "We're already standing in the cold, it's not like you can prevent it now, darling!"

Brian sighed and jammed the book back in his pocket. "Well, while we look for a way home, we need to keep her warm as best we can."

"Roger, build a fire!" Freddie demanded.

"I don't know how!"

"Someone just needs to hold her," Brian said simply, as he looked up at the stars and held his hands up in the sky, trying to determine their current coordinates.

Ronnie shook her head. "I'll be f-fine," she said. "I can tough it out like the rest of you."

"The rest of us aren't pregnant," Roger pointed out, as he pushed John closer to her.

Ronnie stepped away. "I'm a-alright."

"Darling, stop it and let Deaky hold you," Freddie said firmly.

Feeling quite high maintenance, Ronnie gave in and pitifully held her arms out.

John unzipped his jacket and pulled Ronnie closer. As she slipped her arms under his jacket, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed against him, she felt the warmth of his body radiating into her own and closed her eyes in relief. John held her tightly under the folds of his jacket.  
  
Freddie unbuttoned the top button of John's shirt. Gently, he pushed Ronnie's cold cheek into the crook of John's neck.

Ronnie inhaled John's now familiar scent and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She was about to pull away, deciding that this was much too intimate, when Freddie leaned close to her and explained, "Your lips are practically blue, darling."

"I know exactly what happened," Brian said suddenly.

"Yes? What's that?" Roger asked impatiently.

"Roger, remember when you wandered away alone to see if there were any suitable trees elsewhere? That's where we are right now. We followed _your_ footsteps instead of _our_ footsteps. See here? This is where you decided there were no trees that met your expectations, and turned around."

Roger stared where Brian was pointing and sheepishly said, "Oh."

"Which means, we need to go that way," Brian said, pointing in the opposite direction.

Brian, Freddie, and Roger once more picked up the tree, and John made sure that both Ronnie and the chainsaw were in his possession, and they plowed on.

"Come on everyone!" Brian said cheerfully from the front of the tree. "We'll be home before you know it!"

After the spectacle in the woods, everything else seemed easy. Ronnie was immediately ushered into a hot bath and given a hot cup of tea, and when she was feeling completely thawed out, she joined the boys in the living room.

Everyone was in high spirits, having made it home safe and alive, and even when Freddie dropped most of the ornaments on the floor (with a "Oh, for fuck's sake" aimed at each of them as they shattered and dusted the floor with glitter), no one minded.

No one even cared much when Roger tripped over the lights and fell into the tree, knocking it into the corner where Ronnie and John were patiently waiting to assist with the lights. John merely dropped to the floor, pulling Ronnie down with him so that she was safely between his legs, and as the tree stopped just above their heads, they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

As Ronnie listened to his adorable laugh ring out and saw the joy in his eyes, she knew then that her answer really should be yes. And later, when he gently wrapped one arm around her hips and the other arm above her belly to lift her so she could put the star on the tree, she knew for sure.  
  
**Christmas Eve Dinner**

As John's laughter from the day before echoed in Roger's ears, he sighed in relief. No, it wasn't his fault. John had obviously been happy.  
  
"Pass the butter, darling?"  
  
Shaking himself from his thoughts, Roger passed the butter dish down the table. As Freddie accepted it, he glanced at John for what must have been the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes.  
  
Something had happened, that much was clear. And he had a slight suspicion that John overhead the conversation he and Ronnie had had on the stairs that morning...  
  
**Christmas Eve Morning**

"Happy Christmas Eve, darling," Freddie said merrily as ran into Ronnie at the top of the stairs and kissed her on the cheek.

"Happy Christmas Eve, Freddie," Ronnie said with a smile.

"You look rather calm, considering all the excitement from last night," Freddie observed suspiciously.

Ronnie felt herself blush.

"You're blushing!" Freddie whispered in excitement. "What aren't you telling me?"

Ronnie shook her head. "I just like Christmas, that's all."

Freddie gave her a knowing look. "You have an answer for Deaky, don't you?"  
  
"Perhaps," Ronnie said with a wink.  
  
"And? Are you going to tell him yes?"

Ronnie shook her head in wonder as she tried to find the words to adequately explain how she was feeling. She jumped unexpectedly when she heard a loud bang come from down the hall.  
  
After glancing behind her, Ronnie turned back to Freddie. "I can't believe I'm saying this but, yes. I'm going to tell him yes."  
  
Freddie threw his arms around her and twirled her in a circle. "Darling, that's _wonderful_ news! You're going to make him the happiest man in the world."  
  
"I hope so," Ronnie said, leaning her cheek against Freddie's shoulder and determinedly pushing away her self-doubt.  
  
**Christmas Eve Dinner**

Freddie had a feeling John had been responsible for the bang they had heard but why would he have been upset? If anything, he would have heard Ronnie admit that her answer was yes. Unless there had been a terrible misunderstanding.  
  
He watched sadly as John, just as distracted as the rest of them, dropped his fork on the floor. Freddie quickly offered him his own fork.  
  
John smiled gratefully, but it was only a shadow of his usual smile. Freddie knew that and John knew that. But John took the fork with a polite thank you and forced himself to eat, although he wasn't hungry.  
  
But he had promised himself that he would act as normal as possible so that everyone would have a good Christmas, even if he wouldn't. Not for the first time, he wished he hadn't overheard the conversation on the stairs that morning...  
  
**Christmas Eve Morning**  
  
John had been walking down the hall, towards the stairs, when he heard Freddie's voice.  
  
"You're blushing! What aren't you telling me?"

"I just like Christmas, that's all," Ronnie's voice responded.  
  
John stopped and pressed his back against the wall. Holding his breath, he caught sight of the side of Freddie's face and the back of Ronnie's head.

"You have an answer for Deaky, don't you?" Freddie was asking.  
  
John knew he should have turned around right then and walked away, but it was too late to do so without drawing attention to himself.  
  
"Perhaps," Ronnie was saying.  
  
"And? Are you going to tell him yes?"  
  
John dug his fingernails into his palms, knowing he really shouldn't be hearing her answer without being face to face with her and without her knowing. But his heart was rising with hope, and he thought to himself that perhaps everything really might change for the better, and...  
  
He watched in dismay as Ronnie slowly shook her head, and felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Not wanting to hear or know anything else, John pressed his hand against his chest, turned, and walked into a door, causing a noise loud enough to echo through the hallway.  
  
Quickly, he retreated into his bedroom and shut the door. His first instinct was to fall apart, but he firmly told himself that he was an adult now, he would always have to deal with difficult situations, and besides, it had never been guaranteed that Ronnie's answer would be yes. He had always known that there was the possibility that she would say no.  
  
That didn't mean it hurt any less.  
  
Trying to control his breathing and swallowing tears that he refused to let fall, John tried to drag some sense of peace into his soul and wondered how he would ever move on.  
  
**Christmas Eve Dinner**  
  
Fighting his crippling disappointment, John pushed the memory away and tried to concentrate on chewing, swallowing, and the very sparse conversation at the dinner table. He was relieved when they all retired to the living room to spend time together, admire the tree, and chat, with the sound of a Christmas movie playing in the background.  
  
The presents under the tree eventually caught John's eye and he remembered then that he had put all of his gifts there except for two, which were still in his bedroom. Excusing himself, he left the room and hurried up the stairs.  
  
When he returned, he stopped in the doorway, the two small presents hidden behind his back, and watched as everyone bid each other goodnight. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was quite late, well after midnight, but he knew there would likely be no sleep for him tonight.  
  
Ronnie stopped in the doorway, faced him, and gave him a small smile.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Deaky," she whispered.  
  
Before John could reply, Roger cleared his voice very loudly. Ronnie and John turned to him in surprise.  
  
Freddie slowly held up a finger and pointed above them.  
  
When Ronnie lifted her eyes to the top of the doorway, she saw mistletoe. Turning back to the boys, she saw three identical excited, self-satisfied smiles. _My God, they're sly!_ She thought to herself, not quite noticing that John had stepped away and pressed his back against the door frame.  
  
The correct thing to do would have been to lean forward and give John a polite peck on the lips, or a friendly kiss on the cheek. But Ronnie was slowly becoming more curious about her growing feelings and before she could stop herself, she stepped forward, put her hands on his shoulders, and standing on her tip toes, kissed John fully and deeply on the mouth.  
  
When Ronnie pulled away, she watched as John slowly opened his eyes and she couldn't understand why he looked so crushed. Turning to the rest of the band, she saw they wore mixed expressions of shock and amusement.  
  
_The hormones made me do it!_ She cried out in her mind, but not able to force any words out, she muttered a final goodnight and practically ran up the stairs.  
  
\---  
  
Not long after, John sat by himself in front of the Christmas tree, which provided enough light for him to write out Christmas gift tags for the two special presents he had brought downstairs.  Although Freddie, Brian, and Roger had offered to keep him company and had clearly wanted to talk about the mistletoe incident, he encouraged them all to go to bed, saying he wouldn't be far behind.  
  
Taking the first gift, John wrote out neatly _To Ronnie_. With the pen frozen in his fingers, he tried to think of how he should sign his name, now that he knew her answer was no. From, John? Sincerely, John? Best wishes, John?  
  
No, none of that sounded quite right. Putting pen to paper once more, he simply wrote _Deaky_.  
  
But that didn't _feel_ right. Hesitantly, he wrote an additional word before his name.  
  
_Love, Deaky_  
  
John didn't expect those two words to have such an impact on him, yet here he was, blinking furiously at the tears in his eyes and biting down hard on his lip to keep his emotions contained. Holding the small gift in his hands, he wondered how he'd even work up the courage to give it to Ronnie in the morning, but he knew if he didn't, he wouldn't have anything to offer her at all. Slowly, he put the gift under the tree, hiding it behind larger gifts.  
  
The second gift was slightly bigger and opening the second tag, John wrote _To Baby_. That would have to do, since the baby didn't yet have a name and they were unsure of it's gender.  
  
Pressing his lips together firmly, John wrote _Love, Deaky_ and continuously swallowed tears until his throat burned. As he placed the baby's gift under the tree, he thought to himself, how would he ever explain to his mother why he would never marry and why his sister would have to be the one to supply her with grandchildren?  
  
He thought bitterly about how thrilled, how excited he had been when he had heard Ronnie admit that she loved him. And how that didn't even matter now, because he wasn't enough, he wouldn't ever be enough, to weather Ronnie's storms or battle Ronnie's demons. But oh, how he wished he could be.  
  
John realized he needed to relieve the terrible pressure in his chest, even if only for a few minutes.  He had just bowed his head and was about to give himself permission to cry, when he felt someone sit down next to him. He turned his head away, so that his hair was hiding his face, which was already covered with tears.  
  
"Deaky?" He heard Ronnie say softly.  
  
John nodded, to let her know he had heard her and was acknowledging her presence.  
  
"Deaky, what's wrong?" Ronnie asked, taking his hand.  
  
Still turned away from her, John felt his face contort in pain as he scrunched his eyes shut and felt his body shake with two silent sobs.  
  
Ronnie ungracefully crawled in front of him, feeling the tree branches scratching her back, and brushed back his hair so she could see his face.  
  
When she saw John's tears, she reached out and wiped them away with her thumbs, her eyes radiating concern and sorrow. "I've hurt you terribly," she whispered. "Tell me what I've done."  
  
John took a deep breath. "I can't..."  
  
He stood up and walked over to the armchair closest to the tree, to give himself time to collect his thoughts and find the words to tell her how he was not only heartbroken, he was hopelessly _confused_.  Because why would she kiss him so passionately when her answer was going to be no?

"I can't kiss you like that k-knowing your answer is no," John said quietly as he sat in the chair.  "It hurts too much."  
  
Ronnie stared at him, stunned. "Who told you my answer was no?"  
  
"When Freddie asked you, I saw you shake your head..."  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "Oh, Deaky. There's been a terrible misunderstanding."  
  
"What do you mean?" John asked.  
  
Ronnie unsteadily got to her feet and knelt in front of John, placing herself awkwardly between his legs so that she was close enough to reach up and touch his face.  
  
"When I shook my head, I didn't mean my answer was no," she explained gently. "In fact, I was waiting until tomorrow to tell you that my answer is _yes_."  
  
"What?" John whispered, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing.  
  
"Yes!" Ronnie said with a smile. "I will give you a year."  
  
As John sat in silent shock and processed her words, Ronnie threw her arms around him and held him tightly.  
  
Very slowly, John wrapped his arms around her in return. "Are you sure?" He whispered into her ear. "Are you absolutely certain?"  
  
"Yes," Ronnie replied. "I'm absolutely certain. But..."  
  
John pulled away so he could look at her. "Yes?"  
  
"I just ask that..." Ronnie hesitated, before continuing, "...that you take it slowly with me at first. Because I _am_ afraid. Even though I know I don't need to be."  
  
John nodded. "Of course." And then he smiled through his tears and Ronnie felt her heart rise.  
  
"Stay with me?" John asked her shyly, and returning his smile, Ronnie nodded.  
  
John took her hand, helped her onto his lap, and reclined the chair backwards.  Ronnie lay her head in the crook of his neck, brushed away his remaining tears, and felt him take in a shaky breath.  
  
"This is the best Christmas gift I've ever received," he admitted.  
  
"What, me?" Ronnie asked in surprise as she pulled a blanket over them.  
  
John laughed, before saying very, very softly, "Yes."  
  
Ronnie intertwined her fingers with his. "Happy Christmas, Deaky."  
  
"Happy Christmas, Ronnie."  
  
And they fell asleep like that, each thinking that it had been a long, hard year indeed, but thank God it was Christmas and they now truly had each other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! :) Now we can focus on the baby's arrival and if Deaky will ask to adopt it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Christmas Morning  
**  
"Freddie? _Freddie!_ Wake up!"  
  
Freddie groaned and rolled over. "Fuck off and let me sleep."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Roger tore the blankets off of his friend. "Happy Christmas to you, too, _darling_."  
  
As a blast of cold air hit him directly in the arse, Freddie sat up with a growl and aimed his most ferocious look at Roger. "It _won't_ be a happy Christmas for you if you don't let me go back to sleep this instant."  
  
Roger grinned, not one bit threatened. "Just come downstairs. You _need_ to see this."  
  
Freddie did eventually follow Roger down the stairs, grumbling the entire time, but when he stepped into the living room and saw the sight in front of him, he went silent.  
  
It wasn't the sight of the beautifully lit tree on Christmas morning, although that was all sorts of lovely. It wasn't even the serene imagine of Brian sitting on the sofa, sipping tea and patiently thumbing through The Obstetrics Handbook while wearing pajama bottoms printed with little guitars all over them.  
  
No, it was the fact that Ronnie and John had squeezed themselves onto the same armchair, fallen asleep, and were _still_ clinging to each other. It was so adorable it actually hurt Freddie's heart a little bit.  
  
Brian looked up and lifted his teacup in celebration with a grin.  
  
"Well?" Roger demanded. "Was it worth it getting dragged out of bed early?"  
  
Freddie pulled his blonde-haired friend into a hug. "Worth every lost moment of sleep. Thank you, darling." He couldn't have asked for a better Christmas present than to see his dear Deaky finally looking so happy.  
  
At that moment, John opened one eye and then the other. He lifted his cheek off of Ronnie's head and blinking sleep from his eyes, looked around at his bandmates.  
  
Brian, Freddie, and Roger aimed an assortment of thumbs up and celebratory hand gestures at him and after John quickly glanced down at Ronnie, he couldn't help but grin back at them.  
  
\---  
  
But John wasn't grinning thirty minutes later, as he watched Ronnie unwrap his Christmas gift to her. In fact, he felt quite sick as she carefully opened the small box, and when he saw her eyes widen and her mouth drop open, he felt even worse.  
  
"Don't worry," he said quickly. "It's not that kind of ring."  
  
"Not yet," Freddie whispered as he tore his eyes away from the Japanese wood carving that Ronnie had gifted him for Christmas.  
  
Feeling like he may need to excuse himself to throw up, John nervously observed Ronnie as she took the silver ring out of the box and placed it on her right ring finger. He was relieved when he saw that it fit so perfectly, but he was still anxiously trying to gauge her reaction. As she held her hand up to the light, the small diamond crown engraved in the silver sparkled magnificently.  
  
Clearly noticing the ornate detail for the first time, Ronnie let out a little gasp and brought her hand right up to her face to inspect it closely.  
  
"Deaky," Roger breathed, as he sat on the sofa behind the bassist, clad only in the zebra print pants that Ronnie had given him for Christmas. "How in the bloody hell did you afford that?"  
  
John let out a heavy breath, which was all the answer that Roger needed to know that it had been _expensive_.  
  
"The crown represents Queen," John said nervously to Ronnie. "You can wear this and know that n-no matter what path you choose - touring with us or staying at home with the baby - that you are always part of this band."  
  
Ronnie squeezed her eyes shut and held the hand with the ring on it close to her heart. John watched in horror as two tears escaped from under her closed eyelids.  
  
"You don't like it?" He whispered. "Y-you can tell me if you don't, honestly..."  
  
Ronnie's eyes flew open and she quickly threw her arms around John and buried her head in his shoulder.  
  
John slowly circled his arms around her and patted her back soothingly, as he looked at his bandmates in alarm.  
  
"She's crying," Brian whispered, as he closed his presents from Ronnie: two massive tomes on stereoscopy and astronomy. "Which means she loves it."  
  
And sure enough, Brian's sentiment was confirmed when Ronnie pulled away, wiped her eyes, and said sincerely, "John, I _love_ it."  
  
"You do?" John asked, biting his lip.  
  
"You have no idea how much this means," Ronnie said, unable to tear her eyes away from the ring. "It's _beautiful_. And it's perfect. And... _thank you._ Thank you so much."  
  
John had just closed his eyes in relief and was enjoying the feeling of his heart rate finally slowing back to normal, when he felt Ronnie place something in his hands. He unwrapped it, opened the box, and was very surprised to see two tickets to a Yes concert.  
  
Ronnie twisted her fingers together as he stared at the tickets in the box, but then he glanced up at her with a giant smile - literal sunshine radiating from his face - and whispered, "Truly?"  
  
"Truly," Ronnie replied, unable to keep herself from smiling back.  
  
"You'll go with me?" John asked hopefully.  
  
"I don't know," Ronnie said, pretending to think about it carefully. "Roger might really want you to take him."  
  
"No, no, no," Roger said quickly, as he spun in a circle to model his zebra striped arse for Freddie. "That's quite all right."  
  
Ronnie laughed and turned back to John. "Of course I'll go with you."  
  
And then it was John's turn to embrace her and whisper his thanks in her ear.  
  
As the boys all got to their feet to retreat to the kitchen and make Christmas breakfast, Ronnie gathered up her gifts from the boys: the massive rock and roll encyclopedia from Roger, a jean jacket with the Queen logo embroidered on the back from Freddie...  
  
...and a beautiful leather-bound photo album from Brian that was filled with photos he had taken throughout the year. When he had given it to her earlier, he had said meaningfully, "This is to prove to you that 1973 wasn't as horrible as you think it was."  
  
And as Ronnie had slowly turned the pages and gazed at what must have been a hundred photos, a hundred beautiful moments, she realized he was right. There she was surrounded by the entire tour crew on her birthday, in the center of a giant group hug. And there she was sitting on an equipment case backstage during a show, her arm around Ratty. Here she was doing shots with Roger at an after party (before she got pregnant, of course), and here she was holding Brian's Red Special guitar as he positioned her fingers in the right places, and there she was, dancing with Freddie during a sound check.  
  
And there she was sitting on a hotel sofa with Deaky, both of them fast asleep, her head on his shoulder and his cheek resting on the top of her head. Ronnie smiled as she traced her finger over the photo; it had been the night she learned Steve had a wife, the night that Deaky had brought her back to the hotel to make her cheese on toast and tell her he didn't think anyone could ever be disappointed in her.  
  
Ronnie had thrown her arms around Brian's neck and held him for a very long time. She would tell him then, and time and time again, how much his gift meant to her and how it changed everything.  
  
As Ronnie carried her gifts upstairs, John glanced at her from his place at the kitchen stove. It was only then that he realized he had forgotten to give Ronnie the gift for the baby.  
  
**New Year's Eve  
**  
Ronnie squinted at her watch in the darkness and sighed. Still twenty minutes until midnight. Twenty minutes until 1974. Twenty minutes until everyone kissed their boyfriends, girlfriends, and/or one night stands.  
  
She should have been by John's side but instead, she had shut herself in Elton John's hallway closet.  
  
Her hormones (so calm since Christmas day) had decided to come out in full force for New Year's Eve - sort of like all the deliriously drunk people at this party who couldn't keep their hands off each other - and she had needed to find a sanctuary.  
  
The first catalyst had been meeting Elton John for the first time, which she had not been expecting. Freddie had only told them they were all going to a party at his close friend's house, and he neglected to mention that friend was _Elton John_ until the moment they walked through the door.  
  
Ronnie was a big fan and hadn't expected to meet him while sporting her now very obvious and very gigantic baby bump. And so here she was, feeling very overwhelmed.  
  
The second catalyst had been the realization that everyone was going to have fun at this party except for her. In her condition, the most she could ask for was a wine glass of orange juice. She had walked through the throngs of dancing people, painfully aware that she was the only pregnant woman there, and realized that every single person there was going to get drunk, high, or laid - or all three. Except for Ronnie. And so here she was, feeling very excluded.  
  
The third catalyst had occurred when she had squeezed herself on a sofa between John and Elton's friend and musical partner, Bernie Taupin. They were both relatively quiet guys but had managed to make small talk, while Ronnie's eyes roamed around the room and burned from all the blatantly obvious intimacy.  
  
And honestly, pressed up against John on the tiny sofa, how could she fail to notice the boy and the girl in the corner who were very slowly and very sensually snogging? And how could she not see the dozens of people grinding against each other on the dance floor? Or all the women who were led away and came back ten minutes later, lipstick smudged, pants unbuttoned, and positively glowing?  
  
Ronnie folded her arms around her stomach and glanced up at John, who was looking over her head and politely listening to Bernie, and as she fingered her ring, she found herself wondering if John would eventually expect this sort of intimacy from her...and she found herself hoping so.  
  
_No_ , Ronnie told herself firmly.  _Not yet!_ She was not ready for  _that_ , especially in her condition and not after what had happened with Steve. And Deaky deserved her at her best...if there was even a version of her that could be considered such.  
  
Ronnie's heart sunk as she realized how her body had unconsciously responded to all of the pleasure around her; how her mind had reacted to being so close to John in such a confined, electrically charged space. Feeling ashamed, Ronnie had excused herself and eventually found the closet. And so here she was, feeling very frightened.  
  
She sighed and then jumped when she heard a knock on the door.  
  
Reaching up, she twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. A very amused Brian was staring down at her.  
  
"Would you like to tell me why you're hiding in a closet?" Brian asked politely.  
  
Folding her arms over her chest, Ronnie looked away and fixed her gaze on a very flashy pair of platform boots. Brian stepped into the closet and after closing the door so it was open only a crack, he moved the boots aside and sat across from her.  
  
"What's happened?" Brian asked her gently.  
  
Ronnie could see his concerned face clearly from the light shining in from the hallway. "I'm just not feeling very festive," she said, hoping that was enough of a response and knowing it wasn't.  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Because..." Ronnie bit her lip, knowing she could tell Brian the truth but feeling so incredibly mortified. But Brian made it clear he wasn't going anywhere when he folded his long legs into the cramped space, leaned back against the coats, and waited patiently.  
  
"Because there is _so_ much sex in this house right now!" Ronnie burst out. "And I feel revolted but at the same time I feel like...like..."  
  
"Yes?" Brian encouraged her.  
  
"Like I want to be the one having fun for once!"  
  
"So you shut yourself in a closet?"  
  
"Yes!" Ronnie exclaimed. "Just being that close to John around people who are so intimate with each other...I can't stand it, Brian! Truly, I can't. It's making me feel...all sorts of things." She hoped Brian couldn't see how red she was.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with being attracted to your boyfriend," Brian pointed out, trying not to smile.  
  
"Yes, well it's better for the both of us that I'm in here."  
  
"I disagree," Brian said reasonably. "Deaky is looking for you. It's almost midnight and he's worried. He wants to ring in the New Year with you, Ronnie."  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "But everyone kisses at midnight."  
  
"And why is that so frightening to you?"  
  
"Because I'm afraid of how it'll make me feel."  
  
"And how _will_ it make you feel?"  
  
"Closer to him," Ronnie whispered.  
  
Brian considered that for a moment, before asking, "Well, how do you feel about him right now?"  
  
Ronnie bit her lip in frustration as she tried to find the right words to describe how she felt. Finally, she shrugged and said, "He feels like home."  
  
Brian smiled at that. "Well, you don't have to kiss him, Ronnie. You don't _have_ to do anything. Although I will say, I think he'd be thrilled if you made the first move. He _has_ been honoring your wish and taking it slow."  
  
Ronnie titled her head at that. It had only been a week since she had given him her answer and asked him to take it slowly and she realized now that he was truly being respectful. They still shared a bed at night and Deaky hadn't done anything more than hold her...and even then, he _asked_ first.  
  
"But Ronnie, if something inside you is responding to him," Brian shrugged. "Then kiss him. Just do it."  
  
Ronnie looked at her watch and saw they only had a few minutes until midnight.  
  
Brian pushed open the closet door. "Look at him Ronnie," he urged, and Ronnie peeked out of the doorway and saw John standing against the wall by himself. He was surrounded by people, yet he was so _alone_ , holding his glass of alcohol and glancing at the clock.  
  
Ronnie pressed a hand against her heart. He looked so unsure of himself as he looked around the hallway - clearly searching for _her_ \- and then stared down into his half empty glass.  
  
The hallway was suddenly filled with noise as the party guests began the countdown to midnight. Ronnie scrambled ungracefully to her feet.  
  
_Ten, nine, eight...  
_  
Ronnie glanced down at Brian, who gave her a reassuring smile and nodded.  
  
_Seven, six, five...  
_  
Opening the door, Ronnie made her way through the throngs of chanting people in the hallway. She was so close, almost there...  
  
_Four, three, two...  
_  
She stopped in front of John and he looked down at her in surprise, clearly not expecting her to have shown up out of nowhere.  
  
_One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!  
_  
Ronnie pressed her lips against his, realizing it wasn't nearly as passionate as what everyone around them was doing, but when she pulled away and saw John's face break into a smile, she knew she had done the right thing. Putting his glass down, he pulled her close and leaned his forehead against hers.  
  
Brian stepped into the hallway, smiling at the sight of his two friends and not even caring that he had just rung in the new year alone - except for Elton John's platform boots - in a closet.  
  
"Brian darling!" A voice slurred from beside him.  
  
Turning, Brian saw a very drunk Freddie winking at him.  
  
"It's about time you came out of the closet, darling!" Freddie whispered to him, and then chortled at his own gay joke.  
  
Roger also materialized at that moment, holding the hand of a very pretty woman, and planted a wet kiss on Brian's cheek. "Happy 1975, Bri!"

"You mean 1974, Rog."

"Whatever."  
  
And then Brian realized that at this moment - the critical first few minutes of 1974 - all of his best friends were truly happy and so he finally allowed himself to be spirited away to the bar.  
  
**Mid-January  
**  
From that point forward, Ronnie and John grew a wee bit braver. Every night, Ronnie began giving John a goodnight kiss on the cheek before they went to bed. And every night, John held Ronnie tightly, not even bothering to ask permission anymore.  
  
But Ronnie was still preoccupied with hiding any show of skin from John, which is why she found herself creeping down the stairs one night in January after everyone else had gone to bed.  
  
It wasn't nightmares that were keeping her awake this time; it was the fact that her pajama bottoms were now much too tight and she wouldn't be able to get any sleep until she took her pants off. And she was much too modest to do that with John in her bed.  
  
On her way to the living room, Ronnie stopped in the kitchen to grab a tub of emergency chocolate ice cream (just in case she couldn't sleep) and once she arrived at the sofa, she stripped her pajama bottoms off with a dramatic sigh of relief. Reclining back, Ronnie covered up with a blanket and prepared herself for a good night's sleep that never came.  
  
No matter what position she tried, she simply could not get comfortable. She was much too large and awkward, and the baby was so active, and she stuck her leg out of the blanket because she was too hot, and then put it back because she was too cold, and why did she feel so _sad_...  
  
Ronnie reached for her emergency ice cream and sighing pitifully, turned on the television, stuck a giant spoon in the carton, and proceeded to get sucked into an old movie. As the story become progressively sadder, Ronnie burst into tears and felt very thankful that everyone else was fast asleep. Thank God no one was here to witness her crying and eating ice cream in her underwear.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie jumped and as a result, inadvertently sent the spoon flying through the air. It narrowly missed hitting John, who ducked. Straightening up, he stared at her with a mixed expression of amusement and concern.  
  
"Sorry," Ronnie muttered, while wondering if it was even possible for her to feel embarrassment anymore. Honestly, it happened so often she was probably becoming immune to it.  
  
John knelt in front of her and took the ice cream away. Looking up at her, he gently wiped her tears away and waited patiently for her explanation.  
  
"I'm fine," Ronnie said in response to his silent question, as another tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
"You're not," John replied firmly.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Ronnie saw her pajama bottoms crumpled into a ball on the floor. She inwardly prayed that John would decide to go back to bed, so she wouldn't need to explain to him why she wasn't wearing pants, and why her legs were hairier than a bear's, and why her toenails were sharper than the knives in the kitchen.  
  
She should have known he wouldn't leave her. Standing up, he offered her his hand to help her up, as well. But, she thought to herself, what if she stood up and lost her blanket? Then she'd have to tell John her secret.  
  
Staring at his hand in fear, Ronnie pressed herself deeper into the sofa cushion and pulled the blanket up to her nose, wishing she could just disappear.  
  
But John effortlessly reached down, circled his arms around her waist, and pulled her to a standing position. As the blanket fell to the floor, Ronnie let out a breath of terror and tried to snatch it.  
  
"Ronnie, what's wrong?" John asked, visibly worried, as he caught her hand before she could catch the blanket.  
  
Ronnie slowly looked up at him. His eyes were very soft, and full of concern, and Ronnie scolded herself for not being honest with him. He wasn't Steve, he wasn't going to be repulsed...  
  
"I'm not wearing any pants," Ronnie said bravely.  
  
John's eyes traveled down the length of her body, before resting on her face once more. He nodded in confirmation. "You're not, are you?"  
  
Ronnie suddenly felt like she needed to explain herself.  
  
"And that's because my pajamas don't _fit_ anymore," she said, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "My belly is too big, it's _so_ swollen, and I can't sleep because my pants are too tight, which means I'm going to have to start sleeping in my underwear, and that's why I came down here, to spare you..."  
  
"To spare me?" John asked, almost confused.  
  
"...from seeing me like _that_ ," Ronnie said uncomfortably. "From having to be near me like _that_. I can't sleep with you wearing only...only..."  
  
"Oh Ronnie," John said quietly. "None of that matters to me."  
  
Ronnie stared dumbly up at him, not knowing what to say in response to that.  
  
"What matters to me is that you're comfortable," John said, as he gently turned her so her back was to him, sat on the sofa, and pulled her between his legs. As Ronnie felt her back touch John's chest, she sat up straighter, feeling very tense.  
  
John pulled her back into him. "Relax," he whispered into her ear, as he placed his hands on her round belly. His long fingers slowly began to massage it with soothing, circular motions.  
  
Ronnie instantly leaned her head back onto his shoulder and felt her body relax for the first time in days.  
  
"I think..." John began, and Ronnie felt him take a big, shuddering breath. "I think you're b-beautiful whether you're wearing pants or not."  
  
Ronnie couldn't help it; she grinned. It was such a typical, sweet, Deaky-like thing for him to say.  
  
"So will you come back upstairs with me?" John asked hopefully.  
  
Ronnie placed her fingers on top of John's as he continued to rub her stomach gently. "In a few minutes?"  
  
She eventually allowed John to bring her back up to bed, but the thought that she would now be sleeping with him while only wearing underwear and a t-shirt scared her enough to shut herself in her bathroom the next night. Balancing precariously on the edge of the bathtub, she warned herself to hurry. She only had moments before John would come to bed. _Why_ hadn't she done this earlier?  
  
Sticking her tongue out in extreme concentration and propping her left foot on the lip of the tub, Ronnie leaned forward with a razor and stretched her arm towards her shaving cream covered leg.  
  
She gritted her teeth in frustration. This was _so_ difficult. She could barely bend forward over her gigantic belly but she was somehow able to reach her ankle and drag the razor up her leg.  
  
But she tilted too far to the left and accidentally cut herself. As she felt the sting, she let out a cry of rage and pain, threw the razor into the bathtub, and buried her face in her arms.  
  
A few moments later, there was a knock and Brian's concerned voice floated under the door.  
  
"Ronnie? Is everything all right?"  
  
Ronnie lifted her head. "Yes!" She then ran a hand down her face, realizing she had sounded much too defensive.  
  
There was an uncertain silence, before Brian said, "I'm coming in."  
  
When he opened the door and saw Ronnie sitting on the edge of the bathtub with blood streaming down her leg, he was by her side immediately.  
  
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Ronnie mumbled, as she leaned over to retrieve her razor.  
  
"It's almost eleven at night," Brian said curiously. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Nothing!" Ronnie said bitterly. "I'm not doing anything because I _can't_. I can't shave my legs, I can't cut my toenails. I'm too big, Brian!"  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said gently as he unrolled a wad of toilet paper and pressed it against her razor wound. "You don't _need_ to do any of those things."  
  
"Yes, I do!"  
  
"But why now and not before?"  
  
"She's doing it for Deaky, darling," Freddie said from the doorway.  
  
Ronnie's mouth dropped open. "How did you know that?"  
  
"Who else would you go through all this effort for?" Freddie asked. "Honestly, darling, would you even bother with any of this if Deaky wasn't in your bed?"  
  
Ronnie folded her arms. "No," she huffed.  
  
As Freddie suddenly disappeared from the room, Brian placed a band-aid over Ronnie's cut, took the razor from her, and picked up where she left off.  
  
"Oh Brian," she said softly. "You don't have to do that."  
  
"If I don't, you'll be covered in cuts," Brian teased.  
  
Ronnie stared down at her knees and whispered her thanks. As Brian gently pushed her legs into the bathtub and rinsed the remainder of the shaving cream off, Freddie reappeared with Roger.  
  
"Roger and I would also like to help you beautify your extremities," he said.  
  
Toweling her legs dry, Ronnie raised any eyebrow at them.  
  
Freddie held up a little vial of black nail polish. " _And_ we're going to cut your toenails."  
  
"No," Ronnie pleaded. "No, really, it's fine. I'll find a way to cut them myself..."  
  
Brian glanced at Freddie and shook his head.  
  
"Darling, you know if we let you do that, you'll cut your whole toe off," Freddie said firmly, as he led her back into her bedroom. "No one cuts toenails better than Roger. And I should know."  
  
Brian glanced at Roger. "I didn't know that, Rog. I'll keep that in mind next time I'm in need of a cutting myself."  
  
"You'll do no such thing," Roger said fiercely. "I cut Freddie's _one_ time at a show and only because they were so long they were a serious hazard to the fans in the front row."  
  
After ensuring that Ronnie was comfortably propped up against pillows on the bed, Roger took Ronnie's foot and squinting in concentration, lowered the nail clippers  Everything was going very smoothly, until there was a soft knock on the door.  
  
Ronnie sat up, realizing that if three of the members of Queen were in the room with her, that could only mean one person was knocking on the door.  John.  
  
She imagined John opening the door to see her lying on the bed in her underwear, while Roger cut the toenails of her right foot and Freddie blew on the freshly painted nails on her left foot to make them dry faster. And the thought just about sent her into a special form of cardiac arrest.  
  
"Oh my _God_ ," she whispered frantically. "Please don't let him in. Don't let him see me like this."  
  
"Why?" Freddie asked. "You look fabulous, my dear."  
  
"Thanks to us," Roger added and Brian rolled his eyes.  
  
"Give us five minutes, darling!" Freddie shouted to the door.  
  
Roger gave Freddie a shove with his shoulder. "You should have let _her_ answer! Now poor Deaky is going to wonder what you're doing locked in Ronnie's bedroom."  
  
But five minutes later, when Deaky was allowed into the room, he didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the fact that Ronnie and the rest of the band were squeezed on the bed together.  
  
In fact, as they left Ronnie and Deaky alone in the dark together, he couldn't help but smile. He could smell the fresh nail polish and had a relatively good idea of what had happened moments before. And he could only feel thankful to his friends for helping Ronnie _feel_ as beautiful as she already looked.  
  
**February**  
  
"I don't think I can do this," John said miserably as he glanced into the parlor, where Ronnie was sitting in the window seat, watching the heavy snow fall.  
  
"Well, it's now or never," Roger said brightly, as he looked over John's shoulder to get a better look.  
  
"Of _course_ you can do this, darling," Freddie said encouragingly, as he also peered around the door frame.  
  
Brian nodded. "Just be your usual, sweet self. I'm sure she'll say yes."  
  
John stared down at the baby's Christmas present, which he was currently holding in his shaking hands. He _still_ hadn't given it to Ronnie.  
  
At that moment, Ronnie looked over her shoulder, and John, Roger, and Freddie quickly ducked out of sight. But Brian wasn't fast enough and was left in the doorway, hovering awkwardly.  
  
"Hello," Ronnie said with a smile.  
  
Brian strolled casually over to the window and peered out at the sight Ronnie had been admiring. "It's _still_ snowing?"  
  
"I think we have at least two feet," Ronnie said, and then silently hoped that it would stop soon, because they would all need decent weather when they left the farmhouse in one week and traveled back home. Once they arrived home, they'd only have to wait an additional week for Ronnie's due date.  
  
Brian noticed at that moment how serene Ronnie looked. In fact, it was the most relaxed he'd seen her in months.  
  
"You look very calm," he observed with a smile.  
  
Ronnie looked up at him. "I've made a very important decision."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I've decided..." Ronnie looked out the window and pressed a hand against the cold glass. "I've decided to put the baby up for adoption, after all."  
  
Brian quickly looked behind him, hoping that John hadn't heard that. He was relieved to see no one peeking around the doorway, but he knew John was there, waiting to ask Ronnie something very important. And this news was going to ruin John's proposition.  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said very quietly, as he knelt beside her. "You need to tell John right away."  
  
Ronnie looked surprised at this. Of course she would tell John, but why did it need to be right away?  
  
"Please," Brian whispered. "Trust me on this."  
  
Finally, Ronnie nodded. Standing up, Brian turned and strode into the parlor.  
  
Forcing a smile onto his face, Brian put a hand on John's shoulder and squeezed. He desperately wanted to warn him in some way, but that wouldn't have been fair to Ronnie.  
He also knew they couldn't protect John forever and this was a battle that he would need to fight on his own. As John hid the present behind his back and entered the parlor, Brian pushed Roger and Freddie towards the kitchen.  
  
"But we want to hear what happens," Roger protested.  
  
Brian shook his head firmly. "No, you don't. Believe me."  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie looked up at John as he approached the window seat, his hands behind his back, and offered him a bright smile.  
  
Smiling in return, John sat beside her, carefully placing the gift behind him.  
  
"I have something to tell you," Ronnie said, getting right to the point. The truth was, Brian had made her very nervous when he insisted she tell John her news immediately.  
  
John took a deep breath. "So do I."  
  
There was a moment of silence, before they both simultaneously said, "You first."  
  
They shared a moment of laughter together over how in sync they were, and then silence fell over them once more. Ronnie and John were each thinking that perhaps they should just go ahead and say what they needed to first, which is how John burst out with, "I want to adopt the baby!" at the same time that Ronnie resolutely admitted, "I'm not keeping the baby!"  
  
They stared at each other for a few moments, stunned, before John looked down at his hands and Ronnie looked out the window.  
  
Realizing that she needed to explain herself, especially after John had just admitted something so monumental to her, Ronnie said very gently, "John, we're too young. I'm only twenty; you're twenty-two. We're not _ready_ for this."  
  
John looked up at her. "I _am_ ready," he said defiantly.  
  
"How can you be so sure?" Ronnie asked.  
  
"I've never been so sure about anything before."  
  
"But every time you look at it, you'll see Steve," Ronnie protested.  
  
"No," John said firmly. "Everything I look at it, I'll see you."  
  
Ronnie's eyes filled with tears. It had been a hard enough decision to decide to let the baby go and now she felt a million times worse, knowing that John wasn't in agreement.  
  
"But _why_?" She asked, hearing how thick her voice was and knowing her pregnancy hormones were going to spill out of her in the form of tears and unreasonable sobs at any moment.  
  
"Because I know what it's like to not have a father!" John exclaimed, before he reined in his emotions and looking away quickly.  
  
Ronnie pressed a fist to her mouth and looked out at the snow. It had been so pretty before, but now she sort of hated it, as it fell so delicately with not a care in the world. She envied it for not having to worry about awkward conversations about babies.  
  
But then John's soft voice forced her to look up and meet his eyes.  
  
"He died when I was only eleven," John said, forcing himself to keep eye contact. "It was _so_ hard growing up without him...holidays, birthdays, everything was different...and my mum tried, but she couldn't take me fishing or trainspotting or...or..." John took a deep breath. "The point is, I needed _him_. And I can't bear the thought of another child growing up without a dad, not when I can prevent that."  
  
Feeling like she needed to reassure him in some way, Ronnie reached forward and took John's hand. "John, he _will_ have a dad. Whoever decides to adopt him will be his dad."  
  
John shook his head. "You don't know that, Ronnie. He could live out his childhood in an orphanage, for all you know."  
  
Ronnie pulled her hand away, taken aback by that statement, but feeling like she had to defend her decision in some way. Unfortunately, it came out in a way she didn't intend.  
  
"When you asked me to give you a year, I was so afraid," she said miserably. "And that's because I wasn't sure I could give you what you want. And now I know I can't."  
  
John gave her a look of pure disbelief. "What is it you think I want?"  
  
"Children," Ronnie said simply.  
  
It was then that John stopped trying to hide how absolutely heartbroken he felt.  
  
"I didn't ask you to be with me because I want you to give me children," John said bitterly. "I asked you to be with me because I _love_ you."  
  
And the moment the words were out of his mouth, he dropped his head, his cheeks burning. He hadn't meant to go that far, although it _was_ the truth.  He had planned to tell her that he loved her some day, just not in the middle of a very emotional conversation after only one month of dating.  
  
Utterly embarrassed, John reached behind and placed the baby's gift on Ronnie's lap, before springing to his feet and practically running out of the room.  
  
Ronnie stared after him, wishing she had said something, but the truth was, she was speechless. Glancing down at the wrapped gift, she saw John's neat writing: _To Baby, Love Deaky._ She sniffed back tears as she curiously tore off the Christmas wrapping paper and opened the box.  
  
Inside was the softest teddy bear she had ever seen. It was too small for a child, but perfect for a baby, and Ronnie realized that John had likely gone to a lot of trouble, because where would he have found this teddy bear in the middle of nowhere?  
  
Holding the bear to her chest, she leaned her head against the window and began to cry, but only allowed herself thirty seconds. She knew if she allowed herself to stay there and wallow in her own self-pity, she'd go mad.  
  
Putting the bear back in the box and wiping her face, Ronnie stormed out into the hallway, looking for something to take her mind off of everything, when a small cord peeking out from under the closet door caught her attention. Opening the door, she saw a vacuum cleaner.  
  
Her face lit up as she thought to herself, _yes_. _YES!_  Perfect! She'd vacuum the house, that's what she'd do. It would distract her and drown out the sound of anyone trying to ask her what was wrong.  
  
But as she was dragging it out of the closet and looking for a plug, Freddie wandered out of the kitchen and said curiously, "Darling, what are you doing with the vacuum cleaner?"  
  
Ronnie didn't want to talk about the particularly heavy conversation she'd just had with John, so she said defiantly, "Breaking free."  
  
Freddie looked at her knowingly. "I doubt this will help you in your condition. Perhaps you should go take a hot bath, instead?"  
  
Ronnie shook her head, but Freddie had was already placing the teddy bear box back in her hand and pushing her gently towards the stairs. "Go take a bath and feel your feelings, darling. Besides, we already forced Roger to vacuum yesterday."  
  
\---  
Ronnie had torn off everything except for her undergarments, and was standing in the bathtub and relishing the feeling of hot water between her toes as she waited for the tub to fill up, when she felt a gentle pop, followed by the feeling of warm liquid running down her thighs.  
  
Glancing down, Ronnie frowned, wondering if pissing herself would honestly be the cherry on top of this day, when she felt a pain in her belly. Leaning over and grabbing the faucet, she knew immediately that she hadn't wet her pants. Her water had broke.  
  
Shutting off the faucet, Ronnie stepped out of the bathtub and stumbled out of her wet underwear, all the while thinking that this couldn't be happening, not now. It was early, _much_ too early, it was _two entire weeks_ early. Trying not to panic, Ronnie ran into her room and got dressed, knowing she'd need to be brought to the hospital right away.  
  
Opening her bedroom door, Ronnie was hit by another wave of pain. Tripping into the hallway, she saw every bedroom door was open, which meant everyone was likely downstairs. Hanging over the banister, she yelled, " _Brian!_ "  
  
And just in case no one heard that one, she took a deeper breath and shouted, " _Freddie! Roger!_ " And almost choking on a sob, she whispered, "John..."  
  
Roger was the first one up the stairs. Putting an arm around her, he lifted her off of the banister and said anxiously, "Ronnie? What's the matter?"  
  
"My water broke," Ronnie said, as calmly as she could, although she was grimacing in pain.  
  
Roger stared at her. "Excuse me?"  
  
"It means the baby is coming, darling," Freddie said as he appeared and led the way back to Ronnie's bedroom, motioning for Roger to follow with Ronnie.  
  
" _What_?" Roger exclaimed. "Ronnie, are you sure?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure," Ronnie said darkly as they sat her on her bed.  
  
"But you're _two weeks_ early," Freddie protested, as he knelt in front of her.  
  
Ronnie shrugged irritably. She knew that! She then told herself to calm down; after all, they were only concerned about her. But she didn't need concern; what she needed was help, which thankfully arrived in the form of Brian only a moment later.  
  
"I need to go to hospital," Ronnie said desperately. "Like _right now_."  
  
Brian nodded. "John is outside starting the van," he said calmly, before turning to Freddie and Roger. "It's still snowing, so I need you both to try to shovel the driveway, so that we can get out."  
  
Freddie left without comment or question, but Roger turned in the doorway. " _We're_ shoveling? And what about _you_?"  
  
Brian pulled out The Obstetrics Handbook. "Excuse me, did _you_ read the book? No! I'll be staying here with Ronnie, thank you very much."  
  
Roger rolled his eyes, but didn't argue.  
  
Brian sat beside Ronnie on the bed, and began to rub her lower back. "I need you to breathe for me, Ronnie," he said soothingly. "In and out. That's it. In and out. Don't stop breathing."  
  
Ronnie closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, and exhaled through her mouth. Over, and over again. They sat like that for a good ten minutes, waiting, until they heard heavy footsteps stamping up the staircase. Moments later, Roger, Freddie, and John appeared in the doorway, all looking extremely worried.  
  
"We cleared the driveway but the roads aren't plowed!" Roger exclaimed. "There's no way my exceptional car, let alone your shitty van, will make it through all that snow!"  
  
Brian put a finger to his lips, to indicate that Roger should stop before he caused Ronnie great distress. "That's fine," he said smoothly. "There's nothing to worry about. We will figure out the roads."  
  
"There's nothing to figure out!" Roger said frantically. "Nobody lives out here!"

"Which means they likely won't bother plowing the roads until this storm is over," Freddie added, as Brian shook his head in warning.  
  
"They probably won't plow at all!" Roger retorted.  "They'll just wait for the three feet of snow out there to melt in the spring!  That's what I'd do!"  
  
"We'll need to call an ambulance," Brian said, though he couldn't ignore the pit of anxiety that was forming in his stomach.  
  
"That's the other problem," John said quietly. "The phone lines are dead."  
  
Brian stared at them incredulously, before turning to Ronnie, who had doubled over as another contraction hit her. What was most important now was keeping her calm.  
  
But it was much too late for that. As Ronnie leaned over and held her belly, she bit her lip tightly and let out a terrified sob.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go.
> 
> Thank you so much for your feedback! :) And for reading! I really appreciate it.
> 
> Happy Live Aid Anniversary, by the way!


	23. Chapter 23

**5:30 p.m  
**  
"Ronnie," Brian said quietly, as he knelt before her and held her hands. "Ronnie, look at me."  
  
Ronnie straightened up; although she was trying to act brave, Brian could still see the overwhelming fear in her eyes.  
  
"It's going to be _all right_ ," he said firmly. "We _will_ get you to hospital and in the meantime, we are going to take good care of you."  
  
That did make Ronnie feel a teensy bit better and as her pain subsided, she nodded.  
  
"Now, how are you feeling?" Brian asked.  
  
"The pain comes and goes," Ronnie admitted.  
  
Brian nodded. "That's normal. At this beginning stage, there will be periods of rest between the contractions. As the contractions become more regular, we'll know the baby is coming."  
  
He then glanced at his three bandmates, still huddled in the doorway.  
  
"Well, you mind as well make yourselves comfortable," he said. "Because now we wait."  
  
**6:15 p.m.**  
  
Ronnie stopped in the middle of the bedroom and exhaled deeply as a mild wave of pain washed over her.  
  
"That's it," Brian said softly, his arm still around her waist. He had read that movement helped with labor, so he had been walking Ronnie around the bedroom to try to ease her discomfort. Occasionally, she would need to stop - just like now - to let a contraction pass.  
  
As Ronnie closed her eyes and breathed, Brian glanced over his shoulder and saw Roger enter the room. He raised his eyebrows and Roger shook his head, indicating that the phone lines were still down. But Brian didn't want Ronnie to know that, so once she was ready, he gave her a reassuring smile and they resumed their walk.  
  
He hoped she hadn't noticed how quickly John had moved away when he saw them coming in his direction.  
  
Slouched in an armchair, Freddie's eyes followed Ronnie and Brian as they walked back and forth, back and forth. Back and forth.  
  
After about five minutes, he was unable to take it anymore, and letting out a weary sigh, he said, "Brian, stop. Stop, stop, stop."  
  
Surprised, Brian did just that. "Yes, Fred?"  
  
"You're going to put me to sleep," Freddie said as he rose from the chair. Approaching Ronnie, he said, "Brian is so boring, darling. How about we slow dance instead?"  
  
Brian raised his eyebrows.  
  
"It's just a more fabulous form of walking, my dear," Freddie said as he put an arm around Ronnie, took her hand, and began waltzing her very gently around the room while humming a tune.  
  
Relieved that the pressure was off him for at least a few minutes, Brian dropped into the armchair and watched Freddie work his magic, until Roger tapped Freddie on the shoulder, indicating that he wanted to cut in. Freddie reluctantly handed Ronnie over.  
  
As Roger very carefully swayed in a circle with Ronnie, Brian found his eyes drifting to the window, where John was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching them dance. Brian wasn't sure what exactly had transpired between Ronnie and John earlier, but he knew it had been intense and that likely wasn't helping Ronnie's mental state as she prepared for labor.  
  
Perhaps if John got involved, things would naturally fall back into place. But judging by John's sad expression and the pain that was so obviously clouding his eyes, Brian didn't think he'd make the first move.  
  
Brian let out a small cough, and Roger looked at him curiously. Widening his eyes meaningfully, Brian tilted his head ever so slightly towards John.  
  
Never one to be subtle, Roger craned his neck to look directly at John, who raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
Glancing back at Brian, Roger raised a hand and jabbed his thumb towards John, his eyes questioning.  
  
Covering his eyes with his hand, Brian nodded. It was going to be a long night.  
  
Roger reached beyond Ronnie and pulled John away from the wall, so that he was standing directly behind her. He then turned Ronnie around to face John and stepped away.  
  
Not expecting to come face to face with John, Ronnie instantly tried to take two steps back, but bumped into Roger.  
  
John didn't blame her for trying to move away; he realized that she probably felt incredibly uncomfortable. As he gazed down at her, wanting very much to hold her, he knew he had crossed all sorts of boundaries earlier that day by making it known he wanted to be her baby's father and by telling her that he loved her.  
  
But when Ronnie hesitantly met his eyes and he saw how miserable and afraid she was, he moved forward, hoping she would react and come to him on her own.  
  
Ronnie grimaced as the pain returned, this time primarily in her back, and suddenly, the disagreement from earlier didn't seem so important anymore. Realizing that she needed John more than ever, she stepped forward, hugged him, and buried her head in his shoulder.  
  
John immediately pulled her close and, remembering the childbirth class, he held her tightly and gently rubbed her back while rocking her back and forth.  
  
Roger, Freddie, and Brian all shared a long look before they sat back and continued to wait.  
  
**7:00 p.m.**  
  
As the snow continued to fall, the phone lines remained dead, and Ronnie's contractions began to come closer together, Brian couldn't deny that his mild anxiety was turning into fear as he realized it was likely that he would be the one delivering Ronnie's baby.  
  
And his fear was confirmed when Ronnie wrapped an arm around her belly and turned away from John with her eyes squeezed shut, biting her lip in pain.  
  
Brian quickly rushed forward and led her over to the bed.  "Talk to me Ronnie. Tell me what's happening."  
  
"This is the worst pain yet," Ronnie mumbled through her discomfort, as Brian placed her palms on the bed and instructed her to remain bent over that way. He began to massage her lower back as she dropped her head and tried to focus on her breathing.  
  
Realizing that he needed to begin making preparations, Brian asked Roger very quietly, "Will you find something soft to line the bed with?"  
  
As Roger left and the contraction passed, Ronnie looked up at Brian. "Where's the ambulance?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
Brian continued to rub her back as he wrestled with his conscience. Should he lie to her to keep her calm? Or tell her the truth and risk making her even more anxious than she already was?  
  
"We're still working on it, darling," Freddie said carefully, and Brian nodded at him, grateful for his vague answer.  
  
After ten minutes, Roger rushed back into the room with an armful of towels.  
  
Brian's mouth dropped open. "Towels!?"  
  
Roger dropped the towels on the bed and turned to Brian. "Yes, towels! What's wrong with towels?"  
  
"I asked you to find something _soft_ to line the bed with!"  
  
"Towels _are_ soft _and_ they can be thrown away!" Roger argued. "Do you really want to ruin a good blanket?"  
  
"I would give her the blanket off my own bed!" Brian snapped.  "And the shirt off my back!"  
  
"Well, then _do_ it!"  
  
Brian knew they shouldn't be arguing over something as insignificant as towels at a time like this, but his nerves were so highly strung. And though he considered himself a relatively confident man, the sheer, overwhelming responsibility of the incredibly important task looming before him filled him with such anxiety that he found himself snatching a towel off the bed, shaking it, and exclaiming, "You call this soft!? She'll scratch her bare arse on it!"  
  
"Scratch her bare arse?" Roger repeated, picking up a towel and making a show of scrutinizing it carefully. "Excuse me, do you see any thorns?"  
  
Ronnie weakly lifted her head and winced as another contraction arrived. "Towels are fine."  
  
Roger smirked at Brian. "I guess you don't always know best, do you?"  
  
"Well, I certainly know more than you but that's not really saying much, is it?"  
  
"Oh, go fuck a duck, Brian!"  
  
" _Stop_ it!" Ronnie shouted suddenly through her pain.  "Stop fighting or so help me God, I will go and have this baby in the hallway by _myself!"_  
  
Freddie gasped. "You'll do no such thing!"  
  
"I will!"  
  
Brian motioned to John, indicating that he should take over caring for Ronnie. He then threw the towel on the bed almost violently and stormed out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom he shared with the rest of the band.  
  
Freddie pulled Roger aside, so that Ronnie couldn't hear what he was going to say next.  
  
"You better go apologize because he is the only one here even remotely qualified to deliver that baby. We can't lose him now."  
  
Sighing, Roger left the room.  
  
**7:20 p.m.**  
  
Brian splashed cold water on his face over and over again. His fingers were trembling and he _never_ shook like that and this feeling of fear was so new and so ridiculous and he couldn't straighten any of his thoughts out and why did Roger have to be such an arse...  
  
There was a small tap on the door.  
  
"What?" Brian shouted.  
  
"It's me," Roger's voice said from the other side of the door.  
  
"Go away, Roger," Brian muttered, as he reached for a hand towel to dry his face and realized that Roger had literally taken every towel in the house for Ronnie.  
  
Roger opened the door and Brian turned to him, thoroughly annoyed as he wiped his face on his sleeve.  
  
"That's not what go away means," he said tightly.  
  
"Bri, I'm sorry," Roger said quietly.  
  
Brian lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly, as if to say _And?_  
  
Roger let out a breath. "I'm sorry I told you to go fuck a duck."  
  
Brian felt the fight leave him, which was quite unfortunate because it left him with only an overwhelming feeling of anxiety. "It's all right, Rog. I'm sorry I was so harsh about the towels. It's just...I'm..." He sighed. Might as well be honest. "I'm afraid."  
  
"I didn't think you ever got frightened," Roger said in surprise.  
  
"I don't," Brian agreed. "But I am now. So many things could go wrong. What if I do this incorrectly and the baby doesn't..." Brian couldn't even go there.  The risk was high and the number of complications they could possibly encounter were endless.  
  
"You practically trained yourself to be a vaginal doctor," Roger pointed out.  
  
"Gynecologist," Brian corrected him.  
  
"Yes, whatever. But you did it with that stupid book and you're going to do everything right."  
  
"Do you really think so?"  
  
"If anyone can deliver Ronnie's baby, it's you," Roger said, and he looked so sincere that Brian actually smiled.  
  
"That's better," Roger said, as he slapped Brian on the back. "No more of that doom and gloom. It doesn't suit you, you know."  
  
Brian took a deep breath and allowed Roger to pull him out into the hall and say, "Let's go, mate. I believe in you!"  
  
Brian looked surprised at that. "Thanks, Rog."  
  
"I also believe that you don't always need to play so slow in the studio. And I believe your clogs are unnecessary."  
  
Brian rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.  
  
**8 p.m.**  
  
The contractions, up until that point, had been fairly mild (though still painful) and spread apart, but now they were coming with increasing strength and frequency. Ronnie was so fixated on this fact that she didn't hear what Brian had just said to her.  
  
"What?" she asked, lifting her head.  
  
"I think it's time to get you onto the bed," Brian said, as he helped her stand up straight. "But first you need to strip from the waist down."  
  
Ronnie stared at him stupidly.  
  
"I know, darling," Freddie said soothingly. "He's speaking doctor. What he means is...off with your pants!"  
  
Ronnie knew it would be pointless to go into the bathroom to take her pants off, considering that she'd just be coming back out with no pants on anyway. But for the sake of modesty, Ronnie found herself closing the bathroom door behind her and wriggling out of her leggings alone. She kicked them into a corner before stepping back into her bedroom.  
  
She felt her cheeks burn as four pairs of eyes observed her.  
  
"Oh darling," Freddie said sadly.  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said in a pained voice. "What I meant was...you need to take _everything_ below the waist off."  
  
Ronnie glanced down at her underwear, before looking back up at Brian in horror. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Well you can't pop out a baby in your knickers," Roger pointed out helpfully.  
  
"I thought I'd wait until the midwife arrived to...to take everything off," Ronnie said quietly.    
  
Brian realized then that he had to be honest with her.

"Ronnie," he said gently. "Because the phone lines are still down at this point, it looks like...like I'm going to be your midwife."  
  
"Which means you need to go take your nether garments off, darling," Freddie said, pushing her gently towards the bathroom.  
  
Almost in a trance, Ronnie obeyed, shutting the door behind her once more and leaning her forehead against the cool wood.  It was bad enough feeling this alarming mixture of fear and pain; she didn't think she could add embarrassment onto that. She wasn't yet in enough pain to not care.

But still, she forced herself to slip her underwear off.  They fell to her ankles, but just as she was preparing to step out of them, a brand new contraction hit her and momentarily stunned by the pain, she tripped on the underwear instead and fell into the door.  
  
There was a knock on the door and Ronnie heard Brian say, "Ronnie? Is everything all right?"  
  
"Yes," she lied, as she sat her bare arse on the tiled floor and whimpered in pain.  
  
"Wonderful!" Freddie's voice exclaimed. "Then by all means, come out darling."  
  
"I can't."  
  
Ronnie heard a shuffle as Roger pushed someone aside and pressed himself against the door. "What do you mean, you can't? Are you stuck?"  
  
"I think perhaps I should just have it in here," Ronnie called through the door as she tried to stall. "By myself."

"By yourself?" Roger asked, sounding confused. "Is that possible?"  
  
"Darling, you _need_ us!" Freddie insisted.  
  
"Ronnie, you don't need to be embarrassed," Brian said, sounding desperate. "It's just _us_."  
  
Ronnie didn't say anything. That was exactly the problem, that it was _them_.  
  
"Just give me a few moments," Ronnie pleaded. "Please!"  
  
There was silence, and Ronnie took that to mean that her wish was granted.  Dropping her face into her hands, she realized she had never been so afraid in her entire life.  And she knew she was alarming the band but they had to understand that it was no easy feat to just open her legs and bare everything in front of them.  
  
There was a soft knock, before the doorknob slowly twisted, the door opened ever so slightly, and a hand reached in.  Ronnie recognized the ring on the middle finger and knew it was John.  
  
"Ronnie?" He said softly. "Please?"  
  
Ronnie slowly lifted her arm and reached for his hand.  Once her hand was in his, John put one eye to the door crack, but didn't see her.  He glanced at her hand and his gaze followed her arm down to the floor.  
  
John squatted down so that they were eye to eye.  
  
"It's all right," he whispered through the crack in the door. "No one is going to look at you, I promise."  
  
"Do you need help removing your knickers?" Roger asked loudly.  "Because if you do, we can send Deaky in to help you."  
  
Roger's tactic work.  Fear forced Ronnie to her feet and she allowed John to pull her out of the bathroom.  All four guys turned away and pretended to be totally interested in other things as she climbed onto the bed, sat on the towels, and yanked her t-shirt down as far as she could.  
  
"All right," she announced anxiously.  
  
The band turned around and gave her reassuring smiles. Ronnie wanted to crawl into a hole and die.  
  
"Right," Brian said officially. "Now, let's all get into position. Someone should sit behind her, for support."  
  
Freddie pushed John gently towards the bed. "I think Deaky should get that spot of honor."  
  
Blushing, John crawled onto the bed and leaned against the pillows. Trying to keep her shirt pulled down, Ronnie moved back so that she was sitting between John's bent knees.  
  
Brian then instructed Freddie and Roger to sit on either side of Ronnie, for additional moral support and in case she needed hands to squeeze. He then placed himself at the end of the bed and said bravely, "And I'll stay here."  
  
Ronnie clamped her legs shut.  
  
**8:45 p.m.  
**  
"Well," Roger said impatiently. "Where is it?"  
  
Freddie lifted his hand off of his chin curiously. "Where's what, darling?"  
  
"The baby," Roger said. "Shouldn't it have come by now?"  
  
"I'm afraid it takes a little while," Brian admitted, as he opened The Obstetrics Handbook and placed it next to him on the bed.  
  
Ronnie glanced at the book nervously.  
  
"We have an instruction manual, darling," Freddie said to Ronnie with a grin. "Doesn't that make you feel better?"  
  
Roger sighed and leaned back in the chair, trying not to look as bored as he felt.  
  
"Why don't you go check the phone again?" Brian suggested.  
  
"I've checked it at least ten times," Roger replied. "You know it isn't working."  
  
"I know!" Freddie said suddenly. "Let's share nightmare stories!"  
  
"Why nightmares?" John asked curiously.  
  
"Because I'm in the middle of one," Ronnie murmured, as she waited for her next contraction.  
  
"I had a nightmare during our last tour," Freddie said. "We were sleeping in the Holiday Inn and I dreamed I went out on to the hotel balcony and the whole thing fell and I was a heap on the pavement. Really, I was petrified when I woke up in the morning."  
  
Brian grunted in sympathy.  
  
"It was a viscous nightmare," Freddie agreed, before turning to Roger. "Rog, didn't you have one recently?"  
  
"Ever since we started touring, I have the same one frequently," Roger admitted, "where I'm drinking a bottle of Coke and the bottle smashes and I have broken glass all the way down my system."  
  
Ronnie winced at that.  
  
Freddie nodded at her response. "Ridiculous sorts of things like that are caused by the tension that builds up on tour."  
  
Everyone was silent then so that Ronnie could experience another contraction in peace. John laced his fingers through Ronnie's so that she could squeeze his hands.  
  
When it was over and Ronnie had let out a breath of relief, Roger turned to her. "Your turn, Ronnie!"  
  
She gave him a meaningful look. "I think you already know exactly who my nightmares are about."  
  
"That treacherous piss flap," Freddie muttered, and they all angrily thought about Steve for about ten seconds, which was ten seconds more that he deserved.  
  
"Well," Brian said, "I had a nightmare a few weeks ago."  
  
Freddie nodded. "Do tell."  
  
"I dreamed we were playing for a sold-out audience at a massive stadium in America. And we came out on stage, but when I began to play my guitar, no sound came out. The entire stadium was dead quiet."  
  
Freddie gasped. "That would be the equivalent of me opening my mouth and not being able to sing!"  
  
"Exactly! It was _terrible_."  
  
"What about you Deaky?" Freddie asked. "Do you have nightmares or is everything all rainbows and sunshine at night?"  
  
John squirmed slightly. "No, I've had nightmares."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Well, don't keep us in suspense, darling!" Freddie gave his knee an encouraging pat.  
  
John shrugged. "I dreamed that I woke up and...none of this ever happened."  
  
"As in this wasn't the real life? It was just fantasy?" Freddie inquired.  
  
John was glad Ronnie's back was to him, so she couldn't see how red he was turning. "I meant...I meant that I woke up and...and..."  
  
Brian, Roger, and Freddie leaned forward curiously, while Ronnie turned her head slightly, giving him her full attention.  
  
John finally let out a breath. "I dreamed that I lost Ronnie."  
  
"Lost her where?" Roger asked, confused. "In the woods?"  
  
"Roger, don't torture him," Freddie said, before turning to John and saying, "We know what you mean, darling."  
  
Ronnie leaned her head against John's shoulder and looking up, offered him a small smile. John looked down at her and managed to smile back.  
  
Ronnie had to admit she was touched that losing her was what Deaky considered a nightmare.  
  
**9:15 p.m.**  
  
They were still waiting.  
  
But the contractions were almost constant now and turning her head, Ronnie opened her eyes and gave Freddie a look of pure despair.  
  
And that made Freddie feel very sad, because everything would be all right in the end, he was certain of it, but it wouldn't be easy for Ronnie to believe that, not in the state she was in.  
  
And that gave him an idea.  
  
Taking Ronnie's hand, Freddie smiled, took a deep breath, and began to sing.  
  
_Yesterday my life was in ruin_  
_Now today I know what I'm doing_

In spite of all the pain she was in, Ronnie smiled.  His voice never failed to amaze her.

 _Gotta feeling I should be doing all right_  
_Doing all right_  
  
Never one to be left out, Roger joined in.  
  
_Where will I be this time tomorrow_  
_Jumped in joy or sinking in sorrow_

Brian smiled, before adding his voice to the others.

 _Anyway I should be doing all right_  
_Doing all right_

From behind, John folded Ronnie in his arms and pressed his cheek against hers.  
  
_Doing all right_

The contraction passed, leaving Ronnie feeling all right herself.  
  
**9:45 p.m.**  
  
And then the moment came when there were no more periods of rest between the contractions. Sitting up a bit straighter and leaning back into John, Ronnie squirmed as she felt the strangest sensation.  
  
"I think it's coming," she said urgently.  
  
Brian nodded calmly, before getting to his feet and addressing his bandmates. "I'm going to go wash my hands. Thoroughly. I'll just need you to watch over her for a few minutes."

As Brian disappeared into the bathroom, Ronnie let out a sharp cry of pain, which unnerved Roger, who began to fidget uncomfortably, before a sudden realization made him stop.  He looked at Freddie in terror.

"What?" Freddie asked, alarmed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"We don't have any stirrups!" Roger whispered in panic.

"Excuse me, stirrups?" Freddie repeated.

"Yes!" Roger said, sounding exasperated. "At Ronnie's pre-baby appointment, they put her feet in stirrups to keep her legs open wide. And we don't _have_ any!"

There was a moment of silence, before...

"Fuck!" Roger and Freddie exclaimed at the same time.  
  
Brian poked his head out of the doorway as he lathered his hands. "Language!" he exclaimed. "We don't want the baby to hear you two sailors!"

"Deaky," Roger said desperately as he turned to John. "You built the Deaky amp. You must be able to easily whip up a pair of stirrups for us."

John stared at them in disbelief.

"Wasn't the studio once a barn?" Freddie said suddenly. "There must be stirrups in there somewhere..."

"Not _those_ kinds of stirrups!" Roger said, shaking his head.  "Ronnie's not a horse!"

Freddie folded his arms and huffed. "I'm sure Ronnie is perfectly capable of keeping her legs open on her own."

Roger looked shocked. "What are you insinuating? That she can't keep her legs closed?"  
  
Ronnie's current contraction intensified just then. "Forget the stirrups!" she yelled out.

Brian returned, positioned himself once more in front of Ronnie, and tentatively touched her leg. "Ronnie, I'm going to need you to...erm...open your legs."

Ronnie looked like she was actually about to do it, before something overcame her and she shook her head. "I can't, Brian."  
  
"I don't think you have a choice," Roger pointed out.  
  
"He's right, darling," Freddie said gently. "Now is not the time to be modest."  
  
Ronnie stared at Brian, her eyes pleading with him.  
  
"Ronnie," Brian said softly, putting his hands on her knees. "Listen to me. It's just you and me right now."  
  
"What's he talking about?" Roger whispered to John. "We're here too."

"It's a metaphor, Roger," Freddie said dryly.  
  
"I'm not going to judge you," Brian continued. "I don't care about what you look like. All I care about is delivering your baby safely."

He watched as Ronnie's expression gradually softened, and he offered her a smile. "We're in this together."

Ronnie nodded and slowly, she opened her legs. From behind her, John looked away, blushed, and pressed his cheek against Ronnie's head as he looked at Freddie, who gave him a reassuring smile.

Brian squeezed Ronnie's knees. "Thank you," he whispered. Taking a deep breath, he ducked his head and looked between Ronnie's legs.  
  
Roger peered over in interest. "What do you see?"  
  
Brian gave him a dirty look.  
  
"Well, what do you think he sees, darling?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Kill me now," Ronnie muttered, quite certain she'd never felt so mortified in her entire life.  
  
"Roger, why don't you go check the phones once more?" Brian suggested.

Roger sighed. "But you know - "

"I know. But maybe it will be different this time."

Once Roger had reluctantly left, Brian gently pressed his hands against Ronnie's thighs. "Now Ronnie, I'm just looking now to see if there are any signs of early delivery, since I won't be able to tell if you're fully dilated."  
  
Ronnie nodded, looked away, and hoped everything would be over soon.  
  
**10:15 p.m.**

"I got through!" Roger exclaimed as he rushed into the bedroom.

"You did?" Brian asked in surprise, feeling a sense of relief that was almost crushing.

"Yes!" Roger said, clearly excited. "They said it may take awhile, but they're sending someone right away."

Ronnie inhaled sharply at that moment. "Oh no! Oh _no_."

"What is it, Ronnie?" Brian asked quickly.

"I feel like I need to push," Ronnie said, a sense of urgency in her voice. "Brian, I need to push _right now_."

"Ronnie, are you absolutely certain?" Brian asked, looking concerned. "If you begin to push before you're ready, you may tire yourself out before we even get started."

"I'm certain!" Ronnie cried out, as she sat up straight, arched her back, and let out a moan of pain.

Roger opened his mouth, looking quite nervous, but Brian pointed a finger at him. "No," he said sternly. "No nervous babbling from you. Don't speak unless you have something supportive to say."  
  
Roger closed his mouth and took Ronnie's hand.

"Ronnie," Brian said. "The urge you have right now to push means your baby is making it's way into the birth canal. I need you to breathe and remain calm."

Ronnie took a deep breath and nodded. Brian looked above her at John's white face.

"That goes for you, too, Deaky," Brian said gently. "Breathe." He turned to Freddie. "Ready, Freddie?"

"I can be cool, relaxed, get hip," Freddie gave Brian a confident grin. "I'm ready, darling."

Brian turned to Ronnie one last time. "Are you calm, Ronnie?"

Ronnie smiled bravely at him. "I'm calm."

**11 p.m.**

"Oh my God! Oh my _God_ , this sucks!"

Brian looked helplessly at Ronnie. "Sshh," he said soothingly as he rubbed her leg in what he hoped was a comforting manner.  
  
"Why do people even do this?" Ronnie exclaimed, her hair soaked with sweat and her face screwed up in pain.

"Erm...to procreate?" John whispered, as he held her tightly and tried not to feel so useless.

The pain was simply unimaginable, unlike anything Ronnie had ever experienced before. She bit on her lip hard to keep herself from screaming out loud, which caused a  strangled noise to emit from her throat.  And that seriously alarmed the band.

"Ronnie, if you need to scream, then scream," Brian told her firmly. "Don't worry about us. Do what you need to do to get through this."

"Fuck Steve!"

"Yes, darling, that's why you're here in the first place," Freddie said dryly.

"I'll kill him!"

"Well, we would have done that already but Brian wouldn't let us," Roger said, his voice full of regret.

"I am _never_ doing this again," Ronnie moaned, clenching her teeth in agony.

John turned to Freddie, looking absolutely miserable. "How can I help her?" he whispered.

Freddie shook his head sadly. "I don't think there's much you can do for her, darling."

"I think I'm dying," Ronnie whispered. "I am most certainly dying."

"You're very much alive, my dear," Freddie assured her.  "And you need to keep yourself alive."  
  
"Honey, you'll survive," Roger added, then grinned at Freddie, quite proud of himself for incorporating Queen lyrics into the situation.

"Ronnie!" Brian exclaimed suddenly. "Ronnie, I see the baby's head! You're crowning!"

"Did you hear that, darling?" Freddie said excitedly, squeezing Ronnie's hand. "You're crowning! Like a true member of Queen!"

As Ronnie felt herself stretch and the pain went on and on _and on_ with no end, she felt tears running down her face. She stopped laboring and shook her head.

"I can't," she sobbed.

"You can," Brian said, squeezing her calves. "Ronnie, you're almost there."

"Brian, you don't understand!" Ronnie wailed. "I can't! I _can't_."

"Ronnie, _push_ ," Brian said urgently. "You can't stop now, you need to _push_."

As the pain intensified, Ronnie gritted her teeth in frustration. "I won't!"  
  
"Ronnie, you must!" Brian said fiercely.  
  
"It has to come out, darling, one way or another," Freddie pointed out, as Roger drummed on the bedspread nervously.

Ronnie was crying openly now. "Brian, I'm afraid!"

John looked at Freddie again. "I wish I could take her place," he mumbled, his own face a mask of pain. "I wish I could do this for her."

Freddie took his friend's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  "I know, darling."

And then Ronnie couldn't resist any longer as the overwhelming urge to push took over once more and her body literally forced her to go on with the show.  She threw her head back and let out a piercing cry.  
  
" _Do_ something, Brian!" Roger exclaimed in panic, as he stroked Ronnie's hand.  "She's in pain!"  
  
"I'm trying, Roger!"  
  
"Well, should I get her an aspirin?" Roger demanded.

"I feel like I'm being ripped in two!" Ronnie groaned.  
  
"I think she needs more than aspirin, darling," Freddie observed.

"Almost, Ronnie! Almost!" Brian watched in awe as the head gradually emerged, Ronnie's screams echoing in his ears.

Ronnie pushed down hard and cried out, "John!"  
  
"I'm here, Ronnie," John said gently.   _Not like that's saying much_ , he thought bitterly to himself, wishing he could be more helpful.  Leaning closer to her, he began to whisper to her and felt her body gradually relax in his grip. "Ronnie, look at me."

Momentarily distracted, Ronnie stared up at him and John felt sick when he saw the delirious haze of pain in her eyes.  
  
"Good plan, Deaky!" Roger said encouragingly.  "Distract her!"  
  
"How?" John asked, feeling so completely lost.  
  
"How about a happy memory?" Freddie suggested.  
  
John took a deep breath and turned back to Ronnie.  "Ronnie, remember the time Ratty plugged in the Deaky amp when I was working on it? And it electrocuted me?"  
  
_"That's_ what you consider a happy memory?" Roger asked incredulously.  
  
Ronnie's breath caught in her throat at her newest pain, but she fought to keep her eyes open and nodded weakly.  "Mmhmm."  
  
"You held my hand then," John said softly, as he laced his fingers through hers.  "And now I'm going to hold yours."  
  
For a moment, Ronnie looked like she might smile, but as her pain reached it's absolute climax, she turned her head away to cry out.  
  
Realizing that John had become the primary portal of communication to Ronnie, Brian looked up momentarily and asked, "John, could you please remind her to breathe?"  
  
"Ronnie, breathe," John said, squeezing her hand.  "Concentrate on me, not the pain."

"Excellent, Ronnie!" Brian praised her, as the head emerged and turned to one side. "Now just a few more pushes..." He glanced at his bloody hands, supporting the baby's head, and then down at The Obstetrics Handbook. "Roger, could you turn the page for me please?"

Roger obeyed.

"Not backwards! Roger, turn the page the _other_ way!"

Ronnie watched John's face in awe as he very slowly smiled at her and wondered, how did he know she so desperately needed to see his typical Deaky smile at that moment? Suddenly determined, and wanting to do this for him, Ronnie forced herself to bear down and embrace the extreme pressure.

Brian very carefully delivered the right shoulder, and then the left shoulder. "One more push, Ronnie! One more, and we're done!"

Closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath of air, Ronnie pushed with everything she had and suddenly, the pain was gone.

Brian caught the baby and immediately wrapped it in a towel. He found he was grinning; he could not stop smiling like an idiot, no matter what he did, as he gazed down at the small, slippery baby in his arms and heard it's first cry.

Ronnie felt back against John and closed her eyes, letting out an exhausted sigh of relief, as John kissed her on the cheek.

"Darling, we're so proud of you!" Freddie exclaimed, before turning to John and whispering, "Well done, Deaky."

"Ronnie, it's a boy," Brian whispered joyfully. "It's a baby boy."

Ronnie opened her eyes and as she stared at the little being in Brian's arms, her heart contracted painfully as she thought how this should be such a happy moment for her, and yet...

The baby wasn't truly hers, was it? Not if she wasn't keeping it.

Brian cradled the baby as he read The Obstetric Handbook's instructions on cutting the cord out loud to Roger, who gleefully carried out the honor. After that task was done, Brian looked at Ronnie with a very soft expression.

"I know you've made your decision," he said quietly. "But...would you still like to hold him?"

Ronnie gazed longingly at the infant in Brian's arms, covered in her own blood. She wanted more than anything to hold him and she began to stretch out her arms, before she realized what she was doing and wrapped her arms around herself instead. Looking away, she whispered, "No, thank you."

Brian nodded in understanding, as John glanced at Freddie.  Freddie gently pushed him off the bed and helped Ronnie get comfortable.

"Brian?" John asked very quietly, holding out his arms. "May I hold him?"

Brian smiled at him. "Of course," he said, as he transferred the little bundle to John's arms.

A look of discomfort passed over Ronnie's face and Brian took his place, ready to deliver the placenta.

After the ordeal of childbirth, delivering the placenta practically felt like nothing, and so she watched as John held the baby and stared down at him with a soft smile. The baby wasn't crying anymore; in fact, he was staring up at John in wonder, and he slowly reached up a tiny hand.

Ronnie watched as John slowly bent his head and kissed the baby's blood-streaked forehead. As she and Brian finished the nasty business with the placenta, she sat up on the bloody towels and uncomfortably looked away.

"Ronnie?"

Ronnie felt a weight next to her and knew that John was there with the baby.

"Ronnie, are you sure?" John asked quietly, lifting the baby away from his chest and offering him to her.

This time, Ronnie couldn't stop herself. She cradled the baby in her arms and gazed down at it, as there was a sharp rap on the door and the midwife bustled in.

A very unfamiliar feeling began to grow in Ronnie, beginning somewhere near her belly button and rising to wrap itself around her heart. Her eyes filled with tears as the baby, squirming in his towel, looked directly into her eyes and blinked. And then, his mouth opened in the tiniest yawn she had ever seen. She gently touched his fingers, and his toes, and ran a gentle thumb across his cheek.

And then she realized that if she kept this up, she'd never be able to let him go, and so she quickly handed the baby over to the midwife, who took him away to clean him up and make sure he was healthy.

As she watched the midwife carry him away, Ronnie felt an enormous, unbearable feeling of loss.  Without meaning to, she burst into tears.  
  
"Ronnie," John said soothingly, as he tried to pull her over to him. "Ronnie..."

Ronnie feebly pushed him away. "I'll get blood on you."

John caught her before she could crawl away and pulled her onto his lap. Wrapping his arms firmly around her he whispered, "I don't care about that."

And so, Ronnie sat bare arsed in John's lap and bled onto his jeans and cried inconsolably into his chest.

Brian shook his head sadly from across the room. "Is it just me or has our Deaky really grown up this past year?"

"Yeah, Bri," Roger agreed. "I always thought you'd be the first one to be a dad."

Brian glanced at him curiously.

"Look at them," Freddie said in a low voice, nodding at the scene on the bed. "I think Roger is right. Deaky will convince Ronnie that they need each other. All three of them."

And John was trying to do just that.

"Ronnie," John whispered into her hair. "It doesn't need to be this way."

Ronnie cried harder, if that was even possible.

"If you want him, you can keep him. There's nothing preventing him from being yours."

Ronnie lifted her head and looked towards the bathroom, where her new baby was now with the midwife.

"Ronnie," John said quietly.  "I love him already.  Please...give me a chance to prove it to you.  And if I'm a t-terrible dad, then I'll go, I promise."

Ronnie looked up at him and in spite of her tears, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.  "So that means I'll need to give you longer than the year you asked for?"  
  
Amusement flickered in John's eyes, but he was completely serious when he answered innocently enough, "Yes."  
  
"All right," Ronnie said simply as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.  
  
John looked surprised.  "What?"  
  
"All right," Ronnie repeated.  "He's yours, too."  And then she smiled.  
  
John pulled her close and closed his eyes.  "Thank you," he whispered into her ear.  

At that moment, the midwife brought a much cleaner baby out to them, wrapped in a soft blanket. As she handed the baby to Ronnie, she asked what the baby's name was.

Ronnie smiled through her tears down at the little infant. "Robert."

"And the last name?"

Ronnie looked up at that. She hadn't given any thought to the last name, because she hadn't planned on keeping the baby.  
  
But as her mind went blank, John came to her rescue.  He looked up at the midwife proudly.  
  
"Deacon," he said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dying to know what you guys think!
> 
> Also, fun fact - Freddie and Roger's nightmares really happened. Found it in a Melody Maker interview with Freddie from 1974! 
> 
> How cool is that!? (not the nightmares, the fact that that kind of detail exists out there :) )


	24. Chapter 24

The next morning, Ronnie opened one eye and then the other. Wintry sunshine was streaming through the window, illuminating a beautiful sight: John was reclined back in the armchair beside the bed, sleeping, and resting on his chest was little Robert, lying on his belly, his cheek against John's heart.  
  
Still thoroughly exhausted, Ronnie smiled, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to drift off to sleep once more.  
  
When she woke a few hours later, it was no longer peacefully quiet. In fact, she could hear the boys arguing in the hallway.  
  
"He's going to be a _drummer_!" Roger exclaimed. "I could tell the moment Ronnie pushed him out!"  
  
"Not necessarily," Brian said reasonably. "Did you see his little fingers? He may very well be a guitarist, like his dad."  
  
"I'm a dad," John said in awe, and from her position in bed, Ronnie grinned.  
  
"Does that mean I'm an uncle?" Roger asked hopefully.  
  
"Y-yes, of course," John said sincerely.  
  
"Mark my words," Brian said confidently. "He'll pick up a guitar before he picks up anything else."  
  
"Well, what if he wants to take up ballet?" Freddie asked.  
  
There was a long silence, before Roger asked irritably, "Now why would he want to do that?"  
  
And that set them all off again.  
  
The midwife, Mary Lou, gently helped Ronnie into a sitting position so that she could help her get more comfortable with breastfeeding. "Do you want me to tell them you need your rest?" she asked, before adding with a mischievous smile, "I could kick them out of the house for you."  
  
Ronnie laughed. "I'd say yes but after everything they did for me last night...let's just say I don't think I'll ever be able to repay them."  
  
\---  
  
A few hours later, Mary Lou - fully satisfied that Ronnie and Robert were doing well - prepared to leave. After Ronnie had promised her she'd come to a check-in appointment in a few days, Mary Lou pulled out a variety of hospital pamphlets - much to Roger's delight.  
  
"I'm just going to leave a few of these with you, dear," she said, as she flipped through her stack.  
  
"Might you have a pamphlet on becoming an uncle?" Roger asked hopefully.  
  
Mary Lou smiled. "I'm afraid not, but I'll put a special request in."  
  
She began to hand the pamphlets one by one to Ronnie. "Breastfeeding, postpartum depression, proper nutrition..." She frowned at the fourth one. "I don't think you want that one," she said, as she went to stuff it into her bag.  
  
But it caught Ronnie's attention. "What is it?"  
  
"Hysterectomy," Mary Lou explained. "Not anything you'd be interested in until you are _much_ older."  
  
"Actually, I'd like to keep it," Ronnie said, and then remembered that the entire band was assembled in her bedroom and had, without a doubt, heard her.  
  
"Hyster what?" Roger whispered to Brian.  
  
"Hyster _ectomy_ ," Brian whispered back. "It's an operation that will prevent her from having any more children."  
  
Roger instantly looked over to where Deaky was leaning against the door frame and elbowed Brian so they could observe his disappointed expression together.  
  
Mary Lou looked surprised at Ronnie's request, but she handed her the pamphlet and after saying goodbye to everyone, she was gone.  
  
Ronnie put the hysterectomy pamphlet with the others on her bedside table. She then turned to the band, trying to think of a way to distract them from what they had just witnessed. She should have known they would not be deterred.  
  
"Darling," Freddie said carefully from his place on the bed beside her, where he was cradling Robert. "You're not serious, are you?"  
  
"I don't know," Ronnie said honestly.  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence, before Brian said softly, "But Ronnie, you're so _young_."  
  
Ronnie's eyes slowly drifted to Robert, who was sleeping peacefully in Freddie's arms.  
  
"What if you have the procedure done and realize a few years down the road that you _do_ want more children?" Brian asked. "There will be no turning back once it's done."  
  
"I don't ever want to go through that again," Ronnie said seriously, hoping they'd understand. "Pregnancy, childbirth...there was nothing _good_ about this experience."  
  
"Ronnie, that's only because of Steve," Brian insisted. "If it had been with someone else, I'm sure it would have been a perfectly lovely experience."  
  
"Like with Deaky," Roger said matter-of-factly. Ronnie looked sadly at John, who had folded his arms and looked away.  
  
"And besides darling, there's better forms of contraception than this surgery," Freddie pointed out.  
  
"Like condoms!" Roger suggested excitedly.  
  
"Or the birth control pill," Brian added.  
  
"Or not having sex at all," Ronnie suggested, because she was tired and exasperated and how could they talk about sex so _freely_ and she figured it would shock them all.  
  
Freddie gasped. "Don't even joke about something like that!"  
  
"Don't you want more babies?" Roger asked curiously.  
  
"I think John's the one who wants a big family," Ronnie said quietly.  
  
"Yes, but I only want a big family if I can have it with _you_ ," John said passionately, before realizing what he'd said and all of the implications that went along with it. His cheeks burned red as he quickly left the room.  
  
Ronnie looked helplessly at Freddie, who gently handed baby Robert over to her.  
  
"Don't worry, darling," he said, as he stood up to follow Roger and Brian out of the room. "He'll be all right."  
  
\---  
John had immediately retreated to his bedroom, where he sat on the bed that he barely ever slept in and buried his face in his hands. He wondered how it was possible for one person to embarrass themselves so frequently, but he certainly managed it well.  
  
There was a knock on the door and John lifted his head. "Yes?"  
  
He wasn't surprised when the door opened and the rest of the band joined him.  
  
There was silence, before Freddie said casually, "So Deaky, you'll be starting your family tomorrow, you say?"  
  
He then grinned as Roger let out a snort of laughter and Brian shook his head.  
  
John sighed. He had been foolish enough to think they were coming to console him, yet here they were, teasing him mercilessly.  
  
Once Freddie and Roger had regained control of their emotions, they all sat in companionable silence before...  
  
"So Deaky," Roger said gleefully. "How many children will you be having? Six?"  
  
John struggled to get off the bed, but Brian gently pushed him back.  
  
They waited for Brian to say something philosophical, or at the very least comforting, and were very surprised when...  
  
"You might as well stay here and relax," he said, "because you're going to be awfully busy the next few years creating that large family."  
  
John looked away, wishing he could join in the fun, but it was impossible, after learning that Ronnie did not want what he wanted.  
  
"As you j-just heard, there will be no large family," he whispered.  
  
Roger looked guilty. "We're sorry, Deaky."  
  
"I'm sure she'll come around, darling," Freddie said encouragingly. "Never say never."  
  
Brian nodded. "She has just been through a very tough, unmedicated childbirth. She's exhausted. I'd say it's actually quite normal for her to be thinking along these lines."  
  
"Perhaps you can persuade her to change her mind?" Freddie suggested to John.  
  
"How?" John asked doubtfully.  
  
"With facts," Brian said scientifically. "I'll let you borrow my book."  
  
"You'll have a big family before you know it," Freddie said, patting his knee comfortingly.  
  
"It doesn't...it doesn't have to be right away," John said quietly. "Just...some day. One day."  
  
"Just don't do it Steve's way," Roger said darkly.  
  
**Approximately 10 Months Later...December 1974**  
  
Ronnie frowned at the white stick in her hands.  
  
_It's all right_ , she told herself. _It's perfectly fine. Just accept it. Deep breaths, Ronnie._  
  
She looked out the window for a few moments and admired the magnificent view of the city that Ratty had from his toilet, before turning back to the white stick, hoping the result would be different.  
  
And of course, it wasn't. The pregnancy test was still positive.  
  
Ronnie pulled her jeans up, flushed the toilet, and washed her hands. As she looked into the mirror and stared into her own miserable eyes, she wondered how she had gone from being so curious about a hysterectomy to expecting baby number two.  
  
That's when she began to ask herself the same question over and over again.

 _How could I let this happen?  
_  
**Nine Months Earlier**  
  
John certainly did his best to try to persuade Ronnie that perhaps a hysterectomy shouldn't be in their near future.  
  
A week after Robert's birth, after the band had satisfied themselves that _Sheer Heart Attack_ was completely finished, they all moved back home. Roger and Freddie went back to their flat, Brian went to his, and John moved in with Ronnie and Robert.  
  
As Ronnie and John sat at the kitchen table one morning, John cleared his throat.  
  
Ronnie looked up from her bowl of cereal, giving him her full attention.  
  
"You know," John said, swallowing hard. "I heard the other day that...that childbirth the second time around is easier, quicker, and much less painful."  
  
"Interesting," Ronnie said, which gave John hope until...  
  
"That's good news for all those mothers having children a second time around then," she said, giving him a knowing look, before standing, kissing him on the cheek, and putting her bowl in the sink.  
  
Ronnie wasn't daft; she knew exactly what John was trying to do. Which is why she shouldn't have been at all surprised when, a few nights later, he sat on the sofa next to her with a bowl.  
  
She glanced over little Robert's head and then looked curiously at John. "Carrots?"  
  
"Well, actually," John said. "They're _baby_ carrots."  
  
Ronnie looked away and gave Robert a kiss on the head, to hide her smile. "See that?" she whispered to him, loud enough for John to hear. "Daddy's thinking of you because he brought over _baby_ carrots."  
  
John frowned at the bowl of carrots. Random facts hadn't worked, suggestive foods hadn't worked...sighing, he realized he was going to need to be obvious.  
  
A couple of nights later, he found Ronnie curled up in bed after Robert had gone to sleep. He lay down next to her and felt his heart flutter when she smiled at him.  Her smile gave him courage, which he so desperately needed to say what he was going to say next.  
  
"Robert told me this morning that...that he would like a little brother or sister one day."  
  
This time, Ronnie was so caught off guard that she could not think of a smart come back. Blushing, she rolled over and turned off the lamp.  
  
"You're _relentless_ ," she whispered into the darkness.  
  
John smiled at that. "Does that mean it's working?"  
  
"It means you've at least got me thinking about it," Ronnie mumbled sleepily.  
  
As he held her tightly, John congratulated himself on the smallest of victories.  
  
**December 1974**  
**Back in Ratty's Bathroom**

Sitting on Ratty's bathroom floor and still holding the positive pregnancy test, Ronnie shook her head. No, everything had still been fairly normal at that point. It was shortly after that when everything began to fall apart.  
  
Ronnie closed her eyes as she remembered how the band went out on tour and for the very first time, she didn't go with them. She recalled how they had all been so worried, but she had acted completely casual and incredibly brave, so they wouldn't worry about her. And she reminisced about how the first week had been so easy, and she had grown overly confident.  
  
And then, mid-way through the second week, she realized how much she wanted to be on the road with them, how much she missed them all, especially John, and how incredibly bored and useless she felt. During the day, she acted like super-mom, making sure that little Robert was happy and entertained and loved. And every evening, John would call and she would cheerfully tell him about their day, about the little things that Robert was beginning to do, and she would assure him that she was perfectly fine.  
  
But then, once nighttime officially arrived, she did everything she could to distract herself. She binge watched the television, cleaned the house, she even tried to take up baking again. But the night always ended the same, when she finally crawled into the empty bed and tried to ignore the hunger pains in her stomach, which were there because she simply could not bring herself to eat. And then, she cried herself to sleep.  
  
Every. Single. Night.  
  
And then, when the band was touring the United States, Brian contracted hepatitis and needed immediate medical intervention. And the band came home with him.  
  
Was that when things had started to change? Is that when she began to let her guard down?  
  
**Seven Months Earlier  
**  
On the night that John arrived home, Ronnie hugged him tightly and mustered her brightest smile and promised him that everything had been perfectly fine while he had been gone. But the moment it was time for Robert to be fed, she retreated to the bedroom, relieved that she could finally let the smile slip off her face.  
  
Unbuttoning her shirt, she slipped it off of her shoulder in order to breastfeed the baby. And as she fed him, she looked down at his peaceful face and smiled - the first real smile she had managed in days. Rocking him back and forth, she forgot about her misery for a few minutes as she hummed a Beatles tune to him.  
  
John, seeing that the bedroom door was slightly ajar, took that to mean that he could enter. When he saw that Ronnie was breastfeeding the baby, he immediately stepped backwards. He tried to be respectful at times like these and give her privacy.  
  
But Ronnie's back was to him and he found himself frozen in place, his hand on the doorknob, as he observed her. That was when he noticed two things.  
  
The first was that she was _beautiful_. He could only see her profile, but with her hair piled on top of her head, and tiny ringlets framing her face, and her soft smile as she looked down at _their_ son...he had to remind himself to breathe.  
  
The second was that she was so _thin_. One entire side of her body was exposed in order for her to feed Robert, and his eyes traveled from her bare shoulder, down her arm, over the curve of her hip, and up her back. While he knew it was true that women lost weight after the birth of their babies, Ronnie hadn't been this thin even before she had become pregnant.  
  
She looked over her shoulder at that moment.  
  
"I'm sorry," John mumbled quickly as he turned to leave.  
  
"Deaky, wait!" Ronnie said suddenly.  
  
John slowly turned back to her and averted his eyes.  
  
Cradling Robert in one arm, she stepped forward and taking John's hand, pulled him further into the bedroom because they were in a relationship, and this was his son too, and she wasn't doing anything wrong. There was no reason he shouldn't stay.  
  
John stood behind Ronnie, in order to get a better look at Robert. As he looked over Ronnie's shoulder and felt his cheeks burn, he realized it was going to take a bit of getting used to, seeing Ronnie's bare breast and their son latched onto it.  
  
Then he looked at Robert's face, and he smiled as he circled his arms around Ronnie from behind and gently touched Robert's little head. But that smile disappeared when his previous suspicion was confirmed and he felt the incredibly lean contour of her body.  
  
\---  
  
Much later that night, Ronnie sat in bed, reading the rock n' roll encyclopedia that Roger had gotten her for Christmas. The late hour and soft glow of the lamp were beginning to lull her to sleep, when she felt John's eyes on her.  
  
Looking up, she was about to offer him a smile but the expression on his face stopped her. He wore a look of anguish and his eyes radiated concern as he said softly, "You're unhappy."  
  
Ronnie looked down at the open tome on her lap. She thought she had been doing such an excellent job pretending everything was all right, but John had seen through her anyway, like he always did.  
  
"I'll be fine," Ronnie said lightly, hoping that would be the end of it.  
  
John looked at her doubtfully, before moving closer so that he was sitting directly in front of her, pressing his knees against hers. He gently closed the book, forcing Ronnie to look up at him once more.  
  
"Tell me what's wrong," he whispered sincerely. "So I can make it better."  
  
This would have been Ronnie's chance to be completely honest and tell him she didn't like being alone for months on end with the baby, that she still wasn't used to her new life because she missed her old life so much, and that her breasts had started leaking milk at the most inopportune moments and it made her feel like a cow.  
  
But instead, a tear slid down her cheek and rolled over her lips. John leaned forward and kissed it away.  
  
As he shyly looked down at his hands, Ronnie found herself grabbing his shirt, pulling him forward, and pressing her lips against his.  
  
Then, so many things happened at once.  
  
The kiss deepened, and then it deepened _again_ until she felt John's tongue gently exploring her own and his long fingers were pressing firmly into her back and she was wrapping her legs around his waist and the giant book of rock knowledge was being crushed between them and all she could think was that she had _never_ been kissed like this, never in her entire life, and this was so different from their chaste relationship thus far which only involved cuddling and hand holding and gentle kisses and...  
  
...then they heard the baby crying.  
  
Pulling away, Ronnie stared at John with a strange mixture of wonder and shock, but John put a hand on her knee and said quietly, "I'll get him."  
  
Ronnie nodded gratefully and as John left the room, she lay on her side, curled her body around the book, and wondered what in the hell had actually just happened.  
  
**December 1974**  
**On Ratty's Bathroom Floor  
**  
Yes, Ronnie thought to herself. That had most certainly been the moment she had stopped guarding her virtue so fiercely.  
  
But things stayed innocent enough after that. The morning after, John made her a huge stack of pancakes for breakfast and confronted her worriedly about her weight loss. She had insisted that it was because she missed him so much and she hated to cook - which was the truth, if not the entire truth.  
  
As the summer months passed, Ronnie found her happiness again. The next tour, which would begin at the very end of October, seemed very far away, and the weather was so lovely, and their little family of three had all the time in the world to enjoy each other...  
  
A knock on the door pulled Ronnie out of her thoughts. "Come in," she said quietly.  
  
The door opened slightly and Ratty poked his head in. "Are you all right?" he asked. "I thought perhaps you fell into the toilet, considering you've been in here almost an hour..."  
  
Ronnie gasped. "Oh Ratty, I'm so sorry, you must really have to piss, and I left Robert with you..."  
  
"Robert is fine," Ratty assured her, as he sat down next to her on the cold tile. "He's sleeping."  
  
"Thank you so much for watching him while I ran to the pharmacy and..."  
  
"Pissed on a stick?" Ratty said innocently.  
  
Ronnie looked at him strangely. "How did you know?"  
  
"You're holding it in your hand," Ratty pointed out.  
  
Ronnie looked down at her hands and sighing, threw the stick into the trash. She had held onto it long enough.  
  
They were silent for a few moments, before Ratty said impatiently, "Well?"  
  
"Well what?"   
  
"Are you or are you not expecting another bundle of joy?"  
  
Ronnie looked over at him and her lower lip trembled.  
  
"Oh Ronnie," Ratty said, as he pulled her into a hug. "Shouldn't you be happy? It's not like that psychopath fucked with you and your ovaries again."  
  
"I'm not ready to do this again," Ronnie cried into Ratty's shoulder and it was then that her old friends, the pregnancy hormones, returned and she began to blame her neighbors for her predicament.  
  
**Three Months Earlier  
**  
After all, they must have been the ones who planted the idea in her head and in John's.  
  
One cool evening in September, Ronnie had been drifting off to sleep, her pinky linked with John's, when she suddenly heard the strangest noise.  
  
Her eyes snapped open and as she strained her ears to figure out what exactly she was hearing, it dawned on her and she bit her lip uncomfortably.  
  
Moaning. She was hearing moaning through the walls. Her neighbors were getting it on next door and she and John were being taken along for the ride. With wide eyes, she turned to look at John, desperately hoping he was sleeping, but he was staring directly at her.  
  
There was something about his serious expression that alarmed her, and she prayed that he wasn't thinking what she was thinking - that their neighbors were enjoying their sexual freedom very loudly and that she and John had barely dipped their toes into that ocean of pleasure yet.  
  
And then very slowly, the corner of John's mouth begin to lift until his face broke into a grin, and they both began to laugh.  
  
"I swear, if they wake the baby, I'll kill them!" Ronnie whispered, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes.  
  
"I never knew you had such...erm, fun neighbors," John observed.  
  
"This has never happened before," Ronnie admitted. "Usually they're so _quiet_!"  
  
John smiled and said softly, "I promise that one day, I'll buy you a house."  
  
"A house?" Ronnie teased. "Won't that be a bit large for just the three of us?"  
  
"Who said there would just be three of us?" John asked innocently.  
  
Ronnie's mouth dropped open. He could be so _sassy_.  
  
"But if you don't want a house..." John shrugged. "Y-you could just stay here, with your neighbors, and Robert and I will move into the house."  
  
Ronnie clasped his hand. "No! No, please, take me with you."  
  
John smiled at that.  
  
After twenty minutes, Ronnie couldn't take it anymore, and she excused herself to the living room. John joined her on the living room floor not long after, and they found a movie that mercifully drowned out the sounds of lovemaking from next door.  
  
( _This is where it happened_ , Ronnie thought from Ratty's bathroom floor in December 1974. _This was the point of no return_. )  
  
The movie had switched to a very passionate snogging scene and exasperated, Ronnie had turned to John. "We just can't escape it tonight, can we?"  
  
"I...I suppose not," John mumbled and Ronnie stared at him curiously, wondering why he suddenly looked nervous.  
  
And then he kissed her. He kissed her fully and deeply and passionately and she had to open an eye to make sure it really was _Deaky_ in front of her. But of course it was, and so she gave in, and allowed him to lower her to the floor, and they began to lose articles of clothing, and one thing led to another, and...  
  
John pulled back suddenly. "I...I can't."  
  
Ronnie propped herself up on her elbows. "You're right. You can't get me this far and then stop, John Deacon."  
  
"But I can't protect you," John said, hoping she would grasp his meaning as he handed her shirt back, and reached for his own. He bitterly wished he had thought to ask Roger for some form of contraception, because he would have no doubt had it and gladly shared it, although John would have been teased endlessly.  
  
Ronnie tilted her head. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean I don't have a..." John trailed off, before trying again. "...any protection."  
  
And feeling very disappointed in himself, he gently zipped Ronnie's jeans up.  
  
Ronnie hesitated for a moment, her thoughts taking her back to the nine months of hell she had just endured. Without protection, it could all happen again. The terrible pregnancy, the nightmare birth, the unbearable feeling of loneliness when John was on tour with the band...  
  
And that's when she realized she loved John enough to make this decision.  
  
"You said you wanted a big family, didn't you?" she asked.  
  
John stared at her in shock, before he took a deep breath, pulled her into his arms, and held her tightly.  
  
\---  
  
After, John sat holding Ronnie, gazing out the window. After a while, he whispered, "Ronnie?"  
  
"Yes?" she said.  
  
"Marry me."  
  
Ronnie straightened up, so that she was looking him in the eye. "What?"  
  
"Please?"  
  
"I don't want you to feel obligated to marry me because you may have just gotten me...in the family way," Ronnie said firmly.  
  
"That's not why," John insisted.  
  
"Then why?" Ronnie asked.  
  
"Because...because I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy," John said quietly.  
  
Ronnie's mouth dropped open, before she burst into tears and John held her tighter. "It would be that bad, huh?" He said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.  
  
"I never thought _anyone_ would say that to me," Ronnie whispered.  
  
John leaned back and wiped her tears away with his thumbs as he patiently waited for her answer.  
  
"Yes," she said.  
  
John's eyes widened. "Truly?"  
  
"Truly."  
  
John pulled her onto his lap and buried his face in her neck.  
  
The next morning, Ronnie woke feeling incredibly well-rested, very loved, and a tad sore. It was then that she remembered the impulsive decision she had made in the dead of the night and she nervously put a hand against her abdomen.  
  
But then she relaxed, almost certain that she would remain free of a second baby. After all, she had just had one recently, and she couldn't be _that_ fertile. There was no way.  
  
Feeling much better, she slept once more, quite certain there was no pregnancy in her future.  
  
**December 1974**  
**The Bathroom Floor**

Perhaps it would have been true, Ronnie thought to herself, if it had just been that once. But it hadn't been one time. In fact, it continued to happen. And Ronnie was so in love that she ignored the fact that there could be consequences.  
  
And besides, it deepened her relationship with John, and that sustained her when the band left for their _Sheer Heart Attack_ tour at the end of October. It sustained her until, a few weeks later, she began to throw up on a daily basis.  
  
Just like the first time, she waved it away, but by the time the band returned in December for a holiday break from touring, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

One night, when John had gone over to Freddie's to work on a few new songs for what would be their fourth studio album, Ronnie scribbled a hasty note ( _Went to visit Ratty, be home soon. Love, Ronnie and Robert_ ) and asked Ratty to watch Robert while she ran to the pharmacy, purchased her stupid little white stick, and retreated to the bathroom to learn her fate.  
  
And that's how Ronnie found herself on Ratty's bathroom floor now, crying like the silly little girl that she really was.  
  
Ratty looked down at her. "Now, Ronnie, as one of your nearest and dearest friends, I have to go there and ask. Did you and Deaky not use any form of contraception?"  
  
"No," Ronnie said miserably.  
  
Ratty's mouth dropped open. "Ronnie! You had to have known this would be the result of that!"  
  
Ronnie pulled away and scrambled to her feet. She needed him to be understanding and sympathetic, not reproachful and all-mighty.  
  
"I didn't think it could happen to me again so soon!" Ronnie exclaimed. "I'm young and stupid, Ratty."  
  
"Well, yes," Ratty agreed, still shocked that Ronnie had knowingly used _zero_ contraception and had the audacity to sit on his bathroom floor, cry, and tell him how surprised she was.  
  
"Much too young and stupid to be a mother!" Ronnie shouted suddenly, Ratty's answer destroying the calm, rational aura she had tried so hard to build in the last hour.  
  
Ratty got to his feet. "Now that's a bit harsh. You're a _wonderful_ mother, Ronnie. We just need to find you a bit of common sense." He aimed a cheeky smile her way.  
  
"Don't!" Ronnie warned him. "Don't give me the sex lecture when you...you..."  
  
"When I what, Ronnie?" Ratty asked. "Yes, I have had quite a bit of _fun_ on tour, but I have always been _safe_ about it!"  
  
Ronnie opened her mouth, and then closed it.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Ratty said, exasperated. "I would have given you condoms! I would have given Deaky some, too!"  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't just _stop_ him to say, 'Wait a moment, I need to consult with Ratty first!'" Ronnie snapped. "I wasn't _thinking_."

"Clearly not," Ratty observed. "You were busy doing other things."

Ronnie's eyes filled with fresh tears. "I'm going home."

"But Robert just fell asleep! Do you really want to wake him now?"

"You're disappointed in me," Ronnie said pitifully. "And I can't bear it."

"Ronnie, I'm not disappointed in you," Ratty said gently. "No one could ever be disappointed in you."

Ronnie felt a jolt of surprise go through her entire body as she realized that was exactly what John had said to her, once upon a time.

"I'm sorry," Ratty sighed, and took her hands. "I'm sorry I scolded you, then teased you, then made you feel bad."

Ronnie nodded. "Keep going."

Ratty shook his head. "I'm just worried about how Deaky will feel," he said, and quickly squeezed Ronnie's hands when he saw her face fall. "No, no, it's all right. I just meant that...unprotected sex is sort of like you saying, 'Hey, I want a bigger family!' So how are you going to go to him now and say that you made a mistake?"

"I'm not," Ronnie said, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to leave all this misery here with _you_ and I'm going to act perfectly happy about it."

"Don't lie to him, Ronnie," Ratty warned her.  
  
"Well, honestly, Ratty, what can I tell him?" Ronnie said bitterly. "Not the truth! How I never wanted a family! How I don't want to be home raising babies! I want to be on the road with all of you! Where I'd be useful, where I'd be happy! When you are all on tour and I'm here alone, it's _unbearable_!"  
  
"You mean you haven't told Deaky all of that?" Ratty asked carefully, as he raised his eyes and focused on something behind her.  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, you can tell him now."  
  
Ronnie turned around and saw John standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the sad news is...one chapter left! I'm going to be moving onto a new Queen fic idea and I think we need to let Ronnie and Deaky live happily ever after. But there could always be a sequel, you never know!
> 
> The good news is, it'll be a happy ending, I promise.


	25. Chapter 25

John stepped back into the hallway.  
  
"I...I was getting worried when you both hadn't c-come home yet," he stammered, "and the d-door was open so I just c-came in and I heard raised voices and..."  
  
Ratty walked into the hallway and gently pushed John into the bathroom, towards Ronnie.  
  
"And...and..." John could not seem to get his emotions under control or his thoughts in line as Ronnie's most recent confession sunk in. His eyes darted around the room, resting everywhere but on Ronnie's face, and he looked like he was going to be sick. It was extremely painful to watch and Ronnie wished she could force herself to move, to react, to reach out to him...but she was frozen in place.  
  
Finally, John dropped his face into his hand.  
  
Ronnie looked past John and aimed a look of despair at Ratty.  
  
"Talk to him!" Ratty mouthed from the doorway.  
  
Ronnie turned to John once more, and saw the hand that was covering his eyes was shaking.  She couldn't even imagine how much it had hurt him to hear her say that she didn't want a family and that she found life at home unbearable.  
  
"John I'm..." Ronnie began, and then stopped. John slowly lifted his head and forced himself to meet her eyes. When Ronnie saw that his eyes were full of tears, she felt her heart drop.  
  
From behind John, Ratty threw his hands up and gave her a look that plainly said, _Well, go on!  
_  
"I'm pregnant," Ronnie blurted out and then ran from the bathroom before she could see John's expression. Ratty caught her in the hallway.  
  
"Where are you going?" he asked.  
  
"Home," Ronnie said, as she wrenched herself away and hurried down the hall.  
  
Ratty quickly followed, and caught her hand. "Do you really think Deaky is going to be able to drive you and Robert home in the state he's in?"  
  
"Luckily he won't have to," Ronnie retorted, "because I'm walking."  
  
"It's almost 11 at night," Ratty pointed out. "You're not going anywhere."  
  
Ronnie stared at him defiantly, before the fight left her and she leaned her head against the doorway of the guest bedroom.  
  
"Why do I keep hurting him, Ratty?"  
  
Ratty sighed. "Because you're not being honest with him."  
  
Ronnie let out a pained sob.  
  
"Listen," Ratty said gently, as he pulled Ronnie away from the door frame. "This is what we're going to do. I'm going to go talk to him. You go to Robert and try to get some sleep."  
  
He gave her cheek a pat, before pushing her into the bedroom.  
  
Crawling into bed, Ronnie curled her body around Robert's, her salty tears running down her face and eventually dropping into his curly blonde hair.  
  
\---  
  
As soon as Ronnie had disappeared into the guest room, Ratty ran back to the bathroom. He collided with the door frame as he looked wildly around for John.  
  
He found him kneeling before the toilet, hugging the bowl, his forehead resting against his arm. Ratty found it incredibly sad that John was apparently throwing up in the same place that Ronnie had just pissed on a pregnancy test an hour earlier.  
  
Ratty fell to his knees beside John and pulled his jacket off, to make him more comfortable. After he had carefully laid it over the edge of the bathtub, he pulled John's long hair away from his face and briskly rubbed his back. Ratty had been drunk out of his mind plenty of times on tour and had friends do the same thing to him. And although John wasn't drunk, Ratty figured it would help.  
  
"That's it," Ratty said encouragingly as John retched over and over again. "Better out than in."  
  
When he was finished, John sat back and covered his face with his hands.  "I've ruined her life.  I'm no better than Steve."  
  
"Don't you  _dare_!" Ratty said loudly, making John jump in surprise. "Don't you dare compare yourself to that fucking maggot. You have made Ronnie's life  _better_  and she'd be the first to admit it."  
  
"I wrote her a song tonight at Freddie's," John said miserably.  
  
Ratty rubbed his chest uncomfortably. He wasn't used to heart ache, but John had just made him feel it. "Perhaps you should show it to her?" he suggested.  
  
John shook his head. "No, because I'm q-quitting the band."  
  
"What!?" Ratty exclaimed. "Deaky,  _no_. That's not an option!"  
  
"I have no choice," John said sadly.  
  
"You cannot quit the band because you know very well that Freddie will kill you and then he will put  _me_  in charge of hiding your dead arse!"   
  
"I can't leave her again! I had a feeling she might have been unhappy when we were on tour but when I confronted her she told me she was fine," John was staring straight ahead, as if in a trance. "And when she told me she was ready to start a family, I believed her..." He turned a distraught face to Ratty. "Ratty, I'm s-so confused..."  
  
Ratty pulled John to his feet. "I know exactly what you need, mate," he said as he put an arm around him and led him to the kitchen.  
  
After he had made sure that John was comfortably situated on a stool at the kitchen counter and was not in any danger of falling off of it, Ratty poured him a tall glass of alcohol.  
  
John accepted it gratefully and drank it all at once.  
  
Ratty stared at him.  
  
"Right," he finally said, shaking his head. "Well, you're certainly not driving home tonight."  
  
John dropped his head and stared into his empty glass.

"Everything will be all right, in the end," Ratty said as he poured John another drink. "You'll see."  
  
Although Ratty thought that his advice was quite good, he realized that at the moment, John just needed someone to be there. So he poured himself a drink, as well, and sat with John in companionable silence.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie had figured sleep wouldn't come and, realizing she was right, she rolled out of the bed. Stepping into the hallway, she wiped the remaining moisture from her eyes and made her way to the kitchen, thinking that perhaps Ratty had some peanut butter she could drown her sorrows in.  
  
But when she saw John and Ratty sitting quietly at the kitchen counter, she ducked out of sight and hoped she hadn't been seen.  
  
Pressing her back against the wall, she was just inching her way back to the bedroom, when she bumped into an end table, which slid noisily across the floor. She winced in pain as she massaged her side.  
  
She wasn't one bit surprised when Ratty appeared a few moments later.  
  
"Why would you put a table there?" she whispered hotly.  
  
Ratty, looking quite exhausted, ignored her. "Ronnie, go talk to him."  
  
"I'm not ready," Ronnie whispered back.  
  
"You never _will_ be ready to have this conversation," Ratty said knowingly. "So you might as well go get it over with."  
  
Ronnie folded her arms.  
  
"I'm _begging_ you, Ronnie."  
  
When Ronnie still made no move to enter the kitchen, Ratty took her hand and led her into the bathroom. Sitting her on the edge of the tub next to John's jacket, he knelt in front of her.  
  
"I'm going to tell you a story," he said formally.  
  
Ronnie leaned forward, rested her elbows on her thighs, and propped her chin in her hand as she waited for Ratty to go on.  
  
"You may not know this," Ratty continued, "but Deaky has been in love with you ever since the very first night you walked backstage and joined the crew."  
  
"But that was forever ago," Ronnie said in surprise.  
  
"Yes," Ratty agreed. "Four years _is_ practically forever, isn't it?"  
  
"But how do you know that?" Ronnie asked suspiciously.  
  
"Because I was there," Ratty said simply. "You walked into that huge backstage area, shook Brian's hand, and smiled. And the moment you smiled, Deaky dropped his drink. I was standing right next to him."  
  
"Ratty, that doesn't mean anything," Ronnie protested. "The glass could have been wet and slippery and he could have lost his grip."  
  
"The glass wasn't wet," Ratty insisted. "I had just handed it to him. I swear to you, Ronnie. You smiled, his glass shattered on the floor, and when I looked at him, he looked like he'd seen a ghost."  
  
Ronnie tried to ignore the flutter in her belly that had nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with Deaky.  
  
"That's not the first time he dropped a glass on the floor because of you," Ratty said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "He kept doing it. You'd laugh at something and he'd drop his drink. You'd smile at him and say good evening and after you left, he'd drop his cup of water. Remember the time we were all at a party and you complimented him on his bass playing? He promptly dropped his beer bottle. It actually got to the point where whenever you were near, I took his drink away."  
  
Ronnie was staring at Ratty in awe. "Are you serious, Ratty?"  
  
" _Yes_ , Ronnie. I've worked with him closely for four years. I've been a witness to this for _four_ years. His eyes followed you everywhere. He'd be in conversation with someone and when you would enter the room, he'd go quiet. When it was just us, he'd ask me questions about you."  
  
"Questions about _me_?"  
  
"Yes, you," Ratty said. "He asked me who your favorite band was. I'm sure that's why he got Led Zeppelin tickets and asked you to go with him."  
  
"But he didn't ask me on a date until two years after I met him," Ronnie pointed out.  
  
"That's because this is _Deaky_ we're talking about," Ratty said with a grin. "He's shy!"  
  
"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?" Ronnie asked curiously.  
  
"Because I was protecting his secret," Ratty said with a shrug. "If you'd known, I'm sure he would have died of embarrassment."  
  
Ronnie shook her head in wonder as she leaned back and spotted John's jacket beside her. Very slowly, she picked it up and hugged it to her chest, his familiar scent surrounding her.  
  
"So you'll talk to him?" Ratty asked. "Please?"  
  
Ronnie stared at Ratty for a few moments, before she finally nodded, got to her feet, and nervously went to the kitchen.  
  
\---

Ronnie had tried to prepare herself for John's misery on the way to the kitchen but when she entered the room and saw him sitting at the counter with his head bowed, she hesitated and once more hugged his jacket tightly.  She wanted nothing more than to run back down the hall but she knew John deserved better than that and so, after laying his jacket over a chair, she approached him.  
  
John had been staring into his glass so intently that he didn't notice Ronnie had entered the kitchen until she was standing on the other side of the counter, facing him. The sadness in his eyes shocked Ronnie, and she couldn't help but notice how tired he looked and...  
  
...Ratty had left a giant bottle of alcohol next to him. Ronnie had never actually seen John drunk and she didn't think he was drunk now, but even so, she made a mental note to kill Ratty later.  She grabbed the bottle and irritably hid it in the cabinet where Ratty kept his tea and cereal.  
  
Ronnie could see that John was visibly upset - obviously from what he had overheard earlier - and she half-expected him to look away, and so she was a bit unnerved when he continued to stare at her, his eyes burning.  
  
Ronnie gripped the counter uncomfortably. "Tell me what you're thinking," she said in a low voice.  
  
"I'm thinking that Steve and I are very much alike," John said quietly.  
  
Ronnie's mouth dropped open. "You're _nothing_ like Steve."  
  
"Y-yes, I am," John said in an anguished voice. "We both got you pregnant. We both made you unhappy."  
  
Ronnie quickly circled the counter, so that she was closer to him. "But you did so with my _consent_ ," she reminded him gently.  
  
"But did I?" John asked, his voice hoarse. "Why weren't you honest with me, Ronnie? If you didn't want another baby, then why did you let me...?" He trailed off, leaving the question hanging between them.  
  
Ronnie folded her arms and looked away.  
  
"I never knew you were _so_ unhappy," John continued. "When we came back from the tour the first time, you had lost so much weight and there were circles under your eyes and your smile wasn't the same...and you told me y-you had just m-missed me so much and I believed you..."  
  
"Because it was true," Ronnie said emphatically.  
  
"But there was more to it than that!" John protested. "You didn't tell me everything."  
  
"I didn't want to hurt you," Ronnie whispered.  
  
"You're not hurting me," John said softly. "You're only hurting yourself, Ronnie."  
  
Ronnie took a shocked step backwards, but John reached forward and pulled her back to him, so that she was standing between his legs. "Tell me what you want," he said firmly. "Be _honest_ with me."  
  
As her lower lip trembled, Ronnie finally met his distressed gaze and laced her fingers through his.  
  
"I don't think I know what I want," she said honestly. "But I do know that I wouldn't change anything. I love our little family so much - me, you, and Robert. But I love it when we're together. It's so lonely here without you when you're on tour, and I miss the band and the crew and the road...and that's going to take some getting used to. But I should have been honest with you. I'm so sorry, John."  
  
"Just say the word and I'll leave the band..."  
  
"But I don't want that!" Ronnie said quickly. "Queen _needs_ you!"  
  
"But so do you," John whispered.  
  
"I'll be fine," Ronnie assured him. "Perhaps I can even get involved with the band in other ways. But I don't want you to leave them because of me."  
  
They were both silent as John held Ronnie's hands, and as his fingers accidentally brushed against her belly, he asked very quietly, "Why didn't you tell me you didn't want another baby?"  
  
"Because I wanted _you_ ," Ronnie said. "Because you have made me fall so head over heels in love with you that I couldn't wait until we could go to the pharmacy, or Ratty, or Roger, to get contraception. Which was completely irresponsible of me. And honestly, I didn't think I'd get pregnant again so soon because I'm stupid."  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "It's true. I'm paying the price for my stupidity and my dishonesty."  
  
John released her hands and slowly reached out to press his palms against her belly. "Ronnie?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"P-please. Please keep the baby. I...I know you're not ready, but we made it _together_ , Ronnie, and..."  
  
Ronnie reached up to touch John's face. " _Of course_ we're going to keep it."  
  
John pulled Ronnie into his arms and held her tightly. They stayed like that for a moment, before he pulled back to get a good look at her face.  
  
"I really made you fall h-head over heels in l-love with me?" he stammered shyly.  
  
"You did," she said with a grin, before she stood on her tip toes to kiss him. Catching his breath, John knocked his drink over.  
  
As the glass shattered on the floor, they heard Ratty yell from the bathroom, "For Christ's sake, Deaky!"  
  
\---  
  
**January 17, 1975**  
  
"My God, I hate that thing," Freddie muttered as he took a sip of his drink and eyed the electric piano disdainfully.  
  
"It's a good thing you gave it to me, then," John said with a grin as he laid his fingers on the keys.  
  
"The sooner you get a bigger place to live, the better," Roger said irritably to John, as he held little Robert on his knee. "Because then you can finally take it away and Freddie will stop talking about it."  
  
The band was gathered in the living room of Freddie and Roger's flat the night before John and Ronnie's wedding. They had decided on a rather hasty marriage, considering she was now two months pregnant, and although the band had offered to take John out for a night on the town to celebrate, John had insisted he only wanted to hang out. And besides, he had offered to watch Robert for the night, so Ronnie could get a few wedding errands done.  
  
"I refuse to play that damn thing," Freddie said. "It's tiny and horrible and I don't like it. Why play that when you have a lovely superb piano?"  
  
"Yes, we know," Brian said, trying to hide a smile. "You've told us many, many times."  
  
"Do you want to hear John's new song or not?" Freddie snapped.  
  
"What's it called?" Roger asked curiously.  
  
"It doesn't have a name yet," John said shyly. "So for now we're just calling it...Veronica's Song."  
  
Brian and Roger looked at each other and grinned.  
  
John began playing the electric piano and Freddie began to sing while occasionally glancing at a piece of paper with John's lyrics. Brian and Roger listened patiently.  
  
_Ooh I've been wandering round_  
_But I still come back to you_  
_In rain or shine..._  
  
Brian tapped his toe as Roger bounced a giggling Robert in time to the music.  
  
_...you've stood by me girl_  
_I'm happy at home_  
_You're my best friend_  
  
"Wait, wait, wait!" Roger shouted suddenly, waving his arm to cut the music.  
  
"Your criticism better be constructive!" Freddie warned. "I was _just_ getting into it!"  
  
"I'm happy at home?" Roger repeated. "You've got to be joking."  
  
"What's wrong with it?" Brian asked.  
  
"Well, what is this? The Women's Institute?"  
  
"Roger!" Freddie admonished him.  
  
"How about something a bit more rock and roll?" Roger suggested before singing...  
  
_I'm happy on tour!  
_  
After getting blank stares from the rest of his bandmates, Roger tried again.  
  
_I'm happy with beer!_  
  
"But I am happy at home," John said quietly.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with being happy at home," Freddie declared. "Just because Roger's not. Though I can't figure out why, since I'm here."  
  
Roger rolled his eyes, before turning to little Robert and saying, "Your dad is such a romantic, isn't he?"  
  
Not long after, Freddie and Roger stood in their kitchen doorway and observed John, who was sitting at the piano with Robert on his lap.  
  
They watched as John pressed down on a key and, as soon as he lifted his finger, Robert reached forward and banged his hand on the same key - while hitting a few extra ones.

  
Freddie glanced over at Roger and they grinned at each other.  
  
John tapped a different key and Robert reached out his chubby fingers and banged on that key, plus some. On and on it went on, until John finally let out a laugh and bent down to kiss the top of his son's head.  
  
"I don't know," Brian remarked as he looked up from his magazine. "It seems he won't be a guitarist _or_ a drummer."  
  
"What's he going to be then?" Roger asked.  
  
"Freddie," Brian said and grinned.  
  
"Well, if he's going to be me," Freddie said as he sauntered into the room, "we'll have to teach him to play a _real_ piano." He patted Robert on the head. "Won't we, darling?"  
  
At that moment, Roger heard a small tap on the door. Turning, he watched curiously as a letter was shoved under the doorway. In his haste to find out what it was, he tripped over a cord and unplugged the telephone.  
  
" _Roger_!" Freddie shouted from the other room.  
  
"I'll fix it in a moment!" Roger shouted back, as he picked up the letter and threw open the door, intending to tell whoever was there that they had a mailbox and would they be so kind as to fucking use it, but there was no one there.  
  
\---  
Ronnie walked to her flat, her wedding dress in a protective bag over her arm. She should have been deliriously happy, but instead, ever since she had left the dress shop, she had been constantly fighting back tears.  
  
The truth was, she missed her parents and the realization that they would not be at the wedding had hit her very hard recently.  She felt she had never needed them as much as she needed them now and she found herself wishing desperately that they could have met John; she was sure they would have loved him, and baby Robert. But the terrible truth was they were gone and they never would meet John or Robert or any of her children, and that hurt more than she could possibly imagine.  
  
By the time Ronnie arrived at her flat, she had finally let her tears fall. She was just unlocking her door when a voice from behind her made her jump and drop her keys on the ground.  
  
"Hello, Ronnie."  
  
Ronnie spun around and saw Steve standing before her.  
  
"Rough night?" He asked sympathetically as he took in her red, wet eyes.  
  
As Ronnie angrily wiped her tears away, her shock turned into fury. This was _not_ going according to plan! She had planned to fully take advantage of the night off John had arranged for her to get all of her emotions about her parents out _now_ , instead of at the wedding, and how _dare_ Steve show up on her doorstep after a year and interrupt her pity party! How _dare_ he act sympathetic, as if he hadn't called her a whore and tried to kidnap her the last time she had seen him!  
  
" _Fuck_ you!" She shouted as she lowered herself quickly to the ground to snatch her keys. "Why are you even here? You're supposed to be in _jail_! Where you belong!"  
  
Steve folded his arms and leaned against the wall, not one bit taken aback by her explosion of emotion. "Well, they let me out. Good behavior, and all."  
  
Ronnie made a mental note to find out the name of the jail later and destroy them.  Though part of her did wonder if he had escaped...  
  
"Leave," she said in a low, dangerous voice. "Get out my sight. I don't have time for this tonight."  
  
"Clearly you have other things on your mind," Steve agreed. "But I actually came to tell you I won't be bothering you any longer."  
  
Ronnie watched him suspiciously, waiting for him to elaborate.  
  
"It's my wedding gift to you."

Ronnie found she was so angry that she couldn't force anything sarcastic out of her mouth.

"You see, my wife left me."  
  
"Smart woman," Ronnie remarked.  
  
"Yes, well," Steve shrugged. "I'm free now to move on. I'll remarry and get my heir. Which means that baby we made is all yours."  
  
Ronnie spent a good ten seconds trying to decide whether he was telling the truth or not. Finally, she asked out loud, "Why should I believe you?"  
  
"Because I'm sorry," Steve said truthfully. "I am honestly and truly sorry. I regret what I did to you. And so I've come to clear the air and say goodbye. You'll never see me again."  
  
"Do you _promise_?" Ronnie asked coldly.  
  
"I promise. But I didn't feel that way an hour ago and as a result, I did something terrible. So I've come to tell you this as well because I'm hoping you can fix it."  
  
Fear grabbed hold of Ronnie. "What have you done?"  
  
Steve shook his head. "You'll find out. Just go to Freddie and Roger's flat now and tell Deacon that you didn't write the note. I did."  
  
"The note?" Ronnie asked anxiously and was dismayed to hear her voice shaking. "What _note_?"  
  
"Go to him," Steve said, as he began to back away. "Make it right. And have a good life. I wish you both the best." And with that, he disappeared.  
  
Ronnie watched him go and as soon as he was out of sight, she turned to the door and frantically tried to unlock it. Her fingers were shaking so badly it took four tries. She then stumbled into the flat, laid the wedding dress over a chair, and dialed Freddie and Roger's number.  
  
There was no answer. In fact, it sounded like the phone was disconnected. With her heart in her throat, Ronnie tried a few more times, before giving up and calling Ratty instead.  
  
When he answered, Ronnie said breathlessly, "Ratty? Ratty, will you drop me off at Freddie and Roger's? It's an emergency."  
  
\---  
  
Roger shut the door to the flat and turned the letter over. Scrawled on the front of the envelope, in what looked like Ronnie's handwriting, was John's name.  
  
Roger frowned and acknowledged the alarm bells that were going off in his head and which kind of sounded like the gong at the end of Freddie's newest six-minute long song.  Why would John be getting mail at their flat? And if Ronnie had something to tell him, why wouldn't she tell him in person? They did live together, after all.  Unless it was bad news and she  _couldn't_ tell him face to face...  
  
Roger anxiously stuffed the letter in his back pocket and slowly made his way towards the living room, as he tried to think of what to do next. He had a very bad feeling about the entire situation and he was suddenly quite furious that he had been placed in this position.  
  
Why couldn't Freddie have found the letter instead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was wrong...this actually isn't the last chapter after all. I realized I wanted to add a bit more to the story, but I didn't want to cram it all into one chapter. So there is officially one chapter left now.
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments. I always look forward to reading them!


	26. Chapter 26

"Ah, Roger," Freddie said formally as Roger stepped into the living room. "There you are! Have you fixed the phone yet, darling?"  
  
Roger's face turned crimson and although he tried to remain calm, the stress of the situation took over.  
  
"We have bigger problems than the phone, Freddie!" he shouted, before turning on his heel and storming back into the kitchen.  
  
Brian was halfway out of his seat, but Freddie sighed and waved him back into it. "I'll see to him, darling."  
  
Freddie dutifully marched into the kitchen, fixed Roger with a daunting stare, and exclaimed, "What the _hell_ was that, my dear?"  
  
Roger threw the envelope on the kitchen table.  
  
Freddie peered at it and saw John's name. "You wrote Deaky a nice little note on the eve of his wedding? How lovely, Rog!"  
  
"I don't write notes, Freddie!" Roger fumed. " _You_ know that!"  
  
Freddie picked up the envelope and held it up to the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. "This looks like Ronnie's handwriting."  
  
"I think it is," Roger said miserably. "Someone slid it under our doorway."  
  
"So give it to Deaky," Freddie said simply. "It _is_ his letter."  
  
"No," Roger said firmly. "I don't think that's a good idea."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"Think about it, Freddie! Why would Ronnie deliver a letter for Deaky to _our_ flat? If she had something to say to him, she could say it at home! They do _live_ together, after all."  
  
"Maybe this is something adorable that couples do for each other on the eve of their weddings?" Freddie suggested.  
  
"I doubt that!" Roger replied hotly. "It's bad news, Freddie, I know it! It's something she couldn't tell him to his face, something _so_ uncomfortable she had to write it down!"  
  
"There's only one way to find out," Freddie said.  
  
Roger stared at him.  
  
"Give it to him!" Freddie said impatiently. "Then we'll know for sure!"  
  
Roger shook his head. "I'm afraid for him."  
  
"Roger, that's incredibly sweet, but he's not _fragile_ ," Freddie stated, as he reached for the envelope, but Roger had already slipped his finger under the seal and broken it.  
  
"Whoops," he said, though he was clearly not at all sorry.  
  
"You can't just read other people's mail! That's a felony, darling!"  
  
"I don't care!" Roger hissed, as he pulled a sheet of paper out of the envelope. "It's for the greater good! Deaky must be protected at all costs!" He then unfolded the paper and read it.  
  
Freddie watched as Roger's face turned white. "Well?" he whispered anxiously.  
  
Roger dropped the paper into the trash, as if he had been burned.  
  
"Oh my _God_ ," he whispered. "Lord Jesus!"  
  
"The only time you ever get religious is when you're amazed or really upset," Freddie said crossly. "Which is it?"  
  
"We can't show him that, Freddie. It will rip him to _shreds_."  
  
Freddie grimaced as he reached into the trash.   
  
"Disgusting," he muttered, as he pinched the paper between his thumb and forefinger, waved it open, and tilted his head to read it.  
  
Suddenly overcome with emotion, Roger bellowed, " _Brian!_ "  
  
Freddie's eyes scanned the sheet of paper quickly. Running a hand down his face, he exclaimed, "Fuck!"  
  
Brian appeared in the doorway, looking unimpressed. "Yes? You rang, Roger?"  
  
"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"  
  
"Three fucks, Fred?" Brian asked politely. "Is this a special occasion?"  
  
Freddie handed the letter to Brian, before desperately digging a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.  
  
Brian calmly read the letter as Roger restlessly paced around the kitchen. When he was finished reading, he silently placed the letter back in it's envelope, walked over to the phone, and plugged it back in.  
  
With a heart rate that was alarmingly fast, Brian dialed Ronnie's number. When he received no answer, he tried twice more, which did absolutely no good. Hanging up the phone, he turned back to his bandmates.  
  
"This is what you were so upset about it in the other room?" he asked Roger.  
  
"Yes," Roger said anxiously. "I figured it wasn't good news so I committed a felony, according to Freddie, and I opened it, and I was _right_." He turned to Freddie. "I was _right_!"  
  
"Good job, Roger," Brian said, sounding impressed. "You used your intuition."  
  
Roger beamed.  
  
"But," Brian continued, "something about this feels terribly wrong. This isn't like Ronnie. If she had something this important to say, she'd say it to Deaky's face. I know she would. And I can't imagine her ever abandoning Robert."  
  
"Well, who else would have sent it?" Freddie demanded.  
  
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say Steve," Brian admitted, "but we all know he's rotting in a jail cell."  
  
"I hope he's rotting nice and slow," Roger added.  
  
"No one else knows about Ronnie's pregnancy," Freddie pointed out, waving his cigarette in the air. "Except for Ronnie herself, Deaky, Ratty, and the three of us. Deaky hasn't even told his mum yet."  
  
Brian waved the smoke away irritably. "Obviously we didn't send it, and I'd bet everything I have that Ratty didn't send it, so..."  
  
"That leaves Ronnie," Roger whispered.  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence, before Roger nervously glanced at the letter in Brian's hand and whispered, "Throw it away!"  
  
Brian shook his head. "We have to give it to John."  
  
"No!" Freddie said vehemently through another cloud of smoke. "Brian, that tiny piece of paper will destroy him!"  
  
"Well, how do you think he'll feel when he's waiting at the altar tomorrow and Ronnie doesn't show up?" Brian asked quietly.  
  
Freddie and Roger exchanged a glance. They hadn't thought of that.  
  
"It'll be much worse for him to discover it there, in public, in front of his family, instead of here, with just us."  
  
Roger nodded at the letter in Brian's hands. "The honor is all yours, mate."  
  
Brian sighed, turned, and walked out of the kitchen. The sooner they got it over with, the better.  
  
But as he approached John, he stopped short. John had looked up at him, a smile still lighting up his face as he cradled his little son in his arms. "Everything all right?" he asked, laughter lacing his voice. "I heard Roger screaming."  
  
An uncomfortable sensation spread through Brian's chest and although he was usually calm and rational and grounded, the thought that he would very soon be wiping that smile off of John's face was a bit too much to bear.  
  
He pressed the letter against Roger's chest. "Roger has something to tell you."  
  
Feeling and looking very much betrayed, Roger quickly stuffed the letter into Freddie's back pocket and stepped away. "Freddie's much better with words."  
  
John was still smiling, but it had faded slightly. "You all look like you've seen a ghost."  
  
"I'd rather have seen a ghost than go through this," Roger muttered in Freddie's ear.  
  
Brian stepped forward and gently took little Robert from John. He rested his small head against his shoulder, so that he was gazing out the window and not at his father.  
  
The smile had completely disappeared from John's face. Roger pushed Freddie forward.  
  
"You see, darling," Freddie said uncomfortably, as he took the crushed letter out of his back pocket. "This letter was just delivered for you." He held it out to John, forcing his hand to stay steady.  
  
John stared at it a moment, before slowly taking it. He recognized the writing on the front as Ronnie's and his heart almost skipped a beat. As he flipped the envelope over, he saw that it had been resealed shut with an abundance of tape.  
  
"It was Roger," Freddie explained. "He doesn't know any better, darling, and we ask that you spare him and not press charges."  
  
"As if Deaky would sue _me_ ," Roger snorted.  
  
"It's all right, truly," John said quietly, as he tore the envelope open and unfolded the wrinkled sheet of paper inside. Nervously, he began to read it.  
  
_Dear John,  
_  
_I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you.  
_  
_As you've probably guessed, I'm not at all happy. I hate being by myself at home while you're all out having fun on tour. I hate raising a family on my own. I hate going to bed by myself every night.  
_  
_So after much thought, I've made the decision to leave you and Robert. I've accepted a position as a roadie for Led Zeppelin, and I'll be leaving tomorrow. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and I am so excited I'll be on the road once again. I'll carry our baby to term, and after it's born, I will put it up for adoption in whatever town we happen to be in.  
_  
_I've already cancelled the wedding services for tomorrow and contacted the crew to let them know they shouldn't come. Could you please take care of contacting your family and the band?  
_  
_You're welcome to stay in the flat as long as it takes you to find somewhere else to go. I only ask that you stay with Freddie and Roger tonight. I'll be gone by mid-morning tomorrow and then it'll be safe for you to return.  
_  
_Please forgive me for telling you all this in a letter. I know if I told you in person, you wouldn't let me go.  
_  
_I was pressured into all of this. Being with you, keeping Steve's child, this second baby. I never wanted any of it. I'm only sorry I let it go on for so long.  
_  
_I know you'll be a good father to Robert. Please tell him I love him, but I had to go. I only hope he won't hold it against me as he grows older.  
_  
_I know I'll find happiness again. I hope you will too. I wish you all the best, Deaky.  
_  
_Love,_  
_Ronnie_  
  
As John read the letter, Brian gently rocked Robert, while Freddie watched John with a worried expression and Roger sat on the sofa with his head in his hands. When John was finished reading, he slowly crushed the letter and envelope in his fist.  
  
It was then that he felt a hard object hidden in all of that paper and he stuck a finger inside the mutilated envelope and removed a small object. When he saw what it was, a small, pained moan escaped his throat. Feeling sick, he slipped it into his shirt pocket before his bandmates could see it.  
  
Part of him had hoped, had desperately wished, that this was some sort of terrible prank but the moment he saw the object that was included with the envelope, he knew the letter was genuinely from Ronnie.  
  
And so, feeling like a fool, he looked everywhere but at the rest of the band as tears burned his throat and his eyelids and as he desperately tried to make sense of what he had read.  
  
"John?" Freddie said very quietly, stepping forward and holding out a hand to him.  
  
It didn't escape John that Freddie had called him John, instead of Deaky, and that only further convinced him how serious this situation was. And he knew he couldn't deal with this monumental loss at that moment and the only way he knew how to save himself was by pushing it away.  
  
Getting to his feet and still refusing to look at anyone, John made his way unsteadily to the piano.  
  
"P-perhaps we should continue working?" he suggested, hoping he sounded normal but utterly dismayed when he heard the raw note of despair in his voice.  
  
"Darling, it's _us_ ," Freddie said gently. "You don't need to put on a show for us."  
  
"I'm not," John said defiantly, as he sat on the piano bench. "I w-want to work."  
  
But he didn't touch the keys because his gaze fell on the piece of paper on the top of the piano. The one covered in his handwriting, the one that contained the lyrics to his song for Ronnie. Very slowly he reached for it and with a heavy heart, he read and reread his lyrics of love.  
  
Best friends, sunshine, being happy at home...honestly, what had he been _thinking_? This wasn't real life. Biting his lip hard, he angrily tore the paper to shreds.  
  
Alarmed, Roger rushed over to the piano and sat down on the bench next to him. "Deaky, the happy at home line isn't _that_ bad," he said quickly. "You can keep it in, honest..."  
  
"You can tear that paper up all you want to, darling," Freddie said firmly, "but I'll still remember the words."  
  
A startling thunder of sound erupted throughout the room as John fell forward, his elbows hitting the piano keys. He turned his head away from his bandmates as a sob escaped from his throat.  
  
"John," Brian said softly, as he stepped forward, supporting Robert with one hand and holding his other hand out. "I find it very hard to believe that Ronnie wrote that note."  
  
John shook his head forcefully. "I k-know she wrote it."  
  
"How do you know that, darling?" Freddie asked curiously.  
  
Reaching into his shirt pocket, John pulled out the object he had found in the envelope and placed it on the top of the piano. "B-because this was with it."  
  
The band stared in horror as they recognized the silver ring with the diamond crown that John had given to Ronnie for Christmas one year.  
  
"How did we miss that?" Freddie whispered.  
  
As if he couldn't physically bear to be near the ring, John scrambled off of the bench and headed for the kitchen.  
  
"Darling!" Freddie said quickly, his tone warning. "Where are you going?"  
  
"I need to take a walk," John said tearfully, as he pulled on his jacket. But before he could open the door to the flat, Roger had flattened himself against it.  
  
"Only if I can come, too," he said stubbornly.  
  
John shook his head, feeling his composure gradually slipping away. "I need to be alone."  
  
"John, you've just received some very distressing news," Brian said quietly from the kitchen doorway. "You're distracted. It's not safe for you to go anywhere alone right now."  
  
"Brian's right," Freddie said firmly. "We can't have you walking into traffic or into a gay bar or getting lost in graveyards..."  
  
"I can take care of myself!" John exclaimed. "I'll be fine!"  
  
Roger folded his arms and looked nervously at Brian.  
  
Sighing, John wandered away and acted like he was about to take off his jacket in surrender. Satisfied, Roger moved away from the door. As soon as his path was clear, John lunged for the door.  
  
Roger tackled him from behind and they both fell into the door.

"Sneaky Deaky," Roger muttered.  
  
Brian, who was gently rubbing little Robert's back, looked at John sympathetically. "This isn't _like_ you, John."  
  
"He's right, darling," Freddie agreed. "We're only trying to help."  
  
"Then _let me go_ ," John moaned.  
  
"Absolutely not! Not unless you take Roger as your chaperone."  
  
"Fine!" John said, his voice small, pitiful, and filled with anguish. "Lock me in a bedroom then! I'll climb out a window if I h-have to."  
  
Freddie gasped. "You will do _no_ such thing, darling!"  
  
"I will," John cried heartbrokenly. "You...you just wait! I'll do it!"  
  
At that moment, little Robert turned his head and reached out his small fingers. "Da?"  
  
Roger was still holding John tightly from behind, and John found himself relax slightly in the drummer's arms as he heard his son's call.  
  
Robert looked wildly around, still not able to see John. "Da?" he said again, his tiny voice rising in alarm. "Da!"  
  
John held out his arms and Brian gently put the baby into them. John held Robert's head against his chest and whispered soothingly to him. "Sshh, I'm here."  
  
Freddie reached forward and brushed a lock of hair away from John's face. It was so similar to what Ronnie usually did to him that John felt his lower lip tremble.  
  
Robert, who by this time was very tired, began to cry.  
  
"Ssshh," John said again, as he felt his own chin wobble under the immense emotional pressure he was feeling. "I-I'm here. I'm..." And unable to withstand his emotions any longer, he slid to the ground, dragging Roger - who was still holding him - down to the floor with him. He buried his face in his son's little shoulder and cried along with him.  
  
Feeling very important, Roger held the both of them, as Brian lowered himself to his knees and put his hand over John's on Robert's back. Freddie knelt at John's other side and wrapped his arms around everybody.  
  
And they sat like that, a twisted pretzel of a group hug, as John and Robert sobbed over their loss.  
  
\---  
  
Ronnie covered her face with a hand as she sat with Ratty in bumper to bumper traffic. It had been ten minutes and the only explanation was that there must have been an accident and honestly, how _typical_ for this to happen when she needed to do damage control and save the day and she didn't even _know_ what had happened but she had such a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, and Ratty wouldn't stop talking...  
  
"I honestly just can't believe how fertile you are," he was saying, as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Like, seriously, Ronnie, have you thought about that? You could go into business..."  
  
Ronnie shot him a look. "Yes, Ratty, because I really love this whole pregnancy business," she said sarcastically.  
  
"Well, maybe the baby _making_ part..."  
  
Ronnie rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, hoping there would be some news about what was happening and how long it would take. Sure enough, there had been a major car accident, and they were likely not going anywhere anytime soon.

"Perhaps if you pretend you're going into labor, they'll let us through," Ratty suggested with a yawn.  
  
Ronnie anxiously tapped the window pane with her knuckles as she tried to think of what to do. According to her calculations, they were only five minutes away from Roger and Freddie's flat; there was really no reason she couldn't...  
  
Ronnie opened the car door.  
  
Ratty's mouth dropped open. He reached over her, slammed the door shut, and locked it.  
  
"Are you out of your mind?" he exclaimed.  
  
"Ratty, this is an _emergency_!" Ronnie insisted. "There's no reason I can't walk!"  
  
"Oh, yes there is!" Ratty retorted. "You're a young pregnant woman and it's pitch black out! Do you have any idea what could happen to you out there?"  
  
Ronnie peered out the window. "Hmm, I don't know, someone might try to sell me a newspaper."  
  
Ratty sighed and leaned his head against the seat.  
  
"The horror!" Ronnie continued. "Or I may pass a convenience store and be compelled to buy a jar of pickles. Oh _no_!"  
  
"Ronnie, stop it! You're delirious with pregnancy and wedding nerves and I should really bring you straight back home."  
  
"Good luck," Ronnie muttered, as she observed the endless line of cars behind them.  
  
A few more anxiety-ridden moments passed before Ronnie's fingers crawled slowly up the side of the door, inching towards the lock.  
  
"Don't even think about it!" Ratty snapped.  
  
"Ratty, please," Ronnie pleaded. "Deaky needs me. I have a terrible feeling that he's suffering..."  
  
"What about me, Ronnie! If I let you go and anything happened to you, then I would suffer!"  
  
"Nothing is going to happen to me!"  
  
"Just like nothing happened to you the night you slept with Steve," Ratty muttered.  
  
Ronnie reached out and gave Ratty's shoulder a good shove.

"There is no reason to hurry out into that dangerous world, Ronnie!" Ratty said firmly.  "Even though it may take a little bit of time, we will eventually get there."

"I'm terrified, Ratty!" Ronnie said nervously.  "I don't know what that note says and I don't know what could happen because of it..."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could lose him," Ronnie whispered.

"You will  _never_ lose him," Ratty said confidently.

Ronnie gave Ratty a look.  "How can you be so sure about that?"

"Because he has always been there for you.  Ever since the beginning. Before Robert, before Steve, before everything."

"You're speaking in riddles, Ratty."  
  
"Would you promise to stay in the car if I told you a story about Deaky?" Ratty said suddenly.  
  
Ronnie looked over at him in surprise. "A story about Deaky? Like from his childhood?"  
  
Ratty snorted. "No, Ronnie. A story from the early touring days."  
  
"I feel like I know all of those stories."  
  
"Think again," Ratty said with a smirk.  
  
"All right then," Ronnie said, making herself slightly more comfortable. "I'm listening."  
  
"Well, it was right after your parents died..."  
  
Ronnie instantly turned her head away and pressed her fingers to her eyelids. A few moments later, she felt Ratty pat her knee.  
  
"I know you've been thinking about them," he said gently. "I know you wish they were here to see you get married."  
  
Ronnie sniffed her tears back and nodded. "Continue."  
  
"Well, our story takes place right when you returned to the road after the funeral..."  
  
**1971**  
  
_"What the hell are you doing here?" Ratty exclaimed as he stared in shock at the sight before him.  
_  
_Ronnie uncomfortably shifted her duffel bag higher onto her shoulder. "Returning to work."  
_  
_"No," Ratty said firmly. "It's much too soon."  
_  
_"It's so nice to see you, too, Ratty!" Ronnie retorted, as she tried to push past him.  
_  
_Ratty blocked her path with an outstretched arm. "I'm serious, Ronnie. Go home."  
_  
_Ronnie shot him an incredulous look. "Oh, right away. I'll just drive the five hours back home, no big deal!"  
_  
_"Ronnie, you look like shit."  
_  
_"Fuck you, Ratty!" Shoving him aside, Ronnie flung open the door to the venue.  
_  
_Ratty ran a hand down his face. He hadn't been expecting her to return so soon after the death of her parents and so he hadn't had a chance to prepare the band and crew for her return. After spending months on the road with Ronnie, he knew her quite well and he was certain she wouldn't want sympathy. She hadn't given him enough time to warn everyone to act like nothing had happened.  
_  
_He leaned in the doorway and watched as everyone in the backstage area turned and stopped what they were doing to stare at her in shock. He observed as Ronnie took a step backwards, overwhelmed by the sudden, unwanted attention she was receiving. He was certain he heard a glass shattering on the concrete floor, which likely meant John had seen her.  
_  
_After a very uncomfortable twenty seconds of silence, Brian stepped forward and took Ronnie's hands in his.  
_  
_"Ronnie," he said sincerely, his eyes kind. "I am so terribly sorry about your parents. If there's anything we can do for you, just say the word."  
_  
_Ronnie swallowed hard and with wide eyes, nodded quickly.  
_  
_And then, quite suddenly, the entire crew rushed forward to offer their condolences. Ronnie looked over her shoulder and gave Ratty a pained look. And although part of Ratty was thinking that it served her right, thinking she could come back to work when she was still so obviously grieving, another part of him felt that perhaps being smothered by love and affection wouldn't help the situation.  
_  
_He stepped forward, grabbed her hand, and as he pulled her away from the crowd, he said loudly, "We have so much to do, you better get to work straight away, and..." He trailed off as they passed Deaky, who was on his knees, gathering up bits of broken glass.  
_  
_"Deaky!" Ratty said sharply. "Leave it! You can't be cutting up those beautiful fingers of yours, how will you play your bass?"  
_  
_Ronnie immediately got onto her knees beside him. "I'll help," she said, as she tossed her bag aside.  
_  
_Ratty sighed in frustration and observed Deaky, who was watching Ronnie carefully as she picked up pieces of glass and placed them in her palm. He leaned forward, as if he desperately wanted to tell her something, and Ratty shook his head, silently warning him not to mention her parents.  
_  
_But Ronnie had already looked up and into John's eyes and they were so full of concern, and his expression was so kind, and waves of sympathy were radiating from him, that she found herself falling back onto her arse and looking back at him stupidly and wondering what color his eyes were. Here in the light, they sort of seemed gray, but were anyone's eyes truly gray? Tombstones were gray. Tombstones, death...her parents...Ronnie's eyes filled with tears and she realized too late that she had squeezed her hands into fists and the glass was cutting into her palm.  
_  
_"Jesus, Ronnie," Ratty muttered, as he pried her fingers open, forced her to dump the glass onto the floor, and plucked the remaining shards from her skin.  
_  
_Without thinking, John took Ronnie's hand and pressed his t-shirt against her palm. Ratty watched as blood soaked through the fabric.  
_  
_"Right," he said irritably. "I suppose you'll need a new shirt for the show now, won't you?" He got to his feet and rushed off to find a new shirt for John and a band aid for Ronnie, muttering under his breath the entire time.  
_  
_Ronnie sat next to John, surrounded by broken glass, and allowed him to hold her hand. She looked up only once, to whisper thank you to him, and John stared at her and wished he could do more for her than soak up her blood with his t-shirt._

 _What he didn't realize was that he would get his chance later that night.  
_  
_\---  
_  
_That night's show was a special form of hell.  
_  
_Ordinarily, Ronnie loved watching the band. No matter how many times she heard the same songs, she never got tired of them. And she honestly did try to enjoy herself that night as she stood backstage and watched, but the band kept looking over at her, obviously worried, and after awhile, she couldn't take it anymore and wandered off to a hallway in the back of the venue, where she sat on a crate by herself. But she could still feel the vibration of John's bass as it reverberated through the floor, up into her crate, and crept up her legs and into her stomach and stopped to pulsate somewhere in her chest.  
_  
_She was able to keep it together long enough to pack up at the end of the show and see to the usual duties, but after everything was settled, she grabbed her bag and headed to the exit.  
_  
_The crew invited her to go to a bar with them, but she declined, knowing they'd all have a lot more fun without her.  
_  
_And so, Ronnie found herself sitting in the driver's seat of the equipment truck with only a few bottles of alcohol and her grief for company. She had returned to life on the road rather abruptly and hadn't even thought to make sleeping arrangements, and so there was nowhere else to go. She leaned back in the seat, slung a leg over the steering wheel, and drank.  
_  
_The problem was, she never usually drank this much, if anything at all. She was unaccustomed to the strange feelings now surging through her body and then...everything went black.  
_  
_\---  
_  
_"Jesus Christ," Ratty said anxiously as he stormed through the parking lot. "I will throttle her! I swear, Deaky, I will make sure she's perfectly all right, and then I'll kill her for doing this to me!"  
_  
_Normally, John would have smiled but he was too worried about Ronnie to enjoy the fact that Ratty was acting like an overprotective mother hen.  
_  
_"I mean, how dare she just show up right after the funeral, without telling me first, and then disappear in the middle of the night...without telling me first!"  
_  
_Deaky opened his mouth to respond, but stopped in his tracks as they approached the equipment truck. She probably wasn't there, but it was worth a try...  
_  
_Wrenching open the door, John hoisted himself up onto the ledge and squinted in the dim light of the parking lot lamp posts. When he saw Ronnie's motionless form, he immediately crawled further into the truck and, forgetting his shyness, he cupped her face in his hands.  
_  
_"Ronnie!" he whispered urgently. "Ronnie!"  
_  
_Ratty had jumped into the truck immediately after John and once he saw that Ronnie had been found, and that she wasn't conscious, he promptly panicked.  
_  
_"What the fuck, Ronnie!"  
_  
_John pushed him away. "Sshh!"  
_  
_Ratty's arm shot past John and he pressed his fingers against Ronnie's neck. When he felt a pulse, he sighed in relief.  
_  
_"She's just cucumbered," Ratty whispered, taking in the empty alcohol bottles. "Not dead."  
_  
_John tried to fight back the overwhelming sadness that was threatening to engulf him as he gazed at Ronnie. She was so young, only around eighteen, and she had just lost both of her parents, and she felt like the only thing she could do to cope was return to life on the road and get drunk in the parking lot.  
_  
_He decided then that his mission that night was to make her as comfortable as humanly possible. And so, he pushed Ratty out of the truck, circled the vehicle to the driver's side door, and after opening it, he wrapped one arm around Ronnie's waist and the other under her knees.  
_  
_John froze then, unsure of how to hold her without hurting her physically and without hurting himself psychologically.  
_  
_"What are you doing?" Ratty asked suspiciously.  
_  
_"I want to take her to the hotel," John replied.  
_  
_"Very well," Ratty agreed. "Step aside, I'll carry her."  
_  
_"N-no," John stammered. "I...I can do it."  
_  
_Ratty stared at him in disbelief. "No, Deaky. No! You can barely hold a glass of water around her. You'll drop her, I'm sure of it."  
_  
_Suddenly determined, John pulled Ronnie out of the truck and balanced her carefully in his arms. Looking down, he saw that Ratty was kneeling on the ground with his arms stretched under Ronnie, as if to catch her, just in case John couldn't handle the close proximity.  
_  
_"I'm not going to drop her," John said firmly.  
_  
_Ratty raised an eyebrow.  
_  
_"She's too..." John swallowed hard and looked at Ronnie's face. "She's too precious and I would never..."  
_  
_Ratty rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Let's go. It's about a five minute walk and you're making me nervous."  
_  
_\---  
_  
_"Ratty?"  
_  
_"Yes, Deaky?"  
_  
_"Um..."  
_  
_Ratty turned and saw that John had stopped on the sidewalk and was looking anxiously at Ronnie's chest. The right side of her jacket had fallen open to reveal one, rounded breast and although it was fully covered by a white tank top, it was still clearly distressing John.  
_  
_"It's a tit, Deaky. It isn't going to bite you."  
_  
_"Yes, I know, but do you think you could..."  
_  
_"I'm not touching it."  
_  
_"No, Ratty, could you...could you cover her, please?"  
_  
_Ratty grinned. "Distracted, are we?"  
_  
_John's cheeks burned red. "N-no, I just want to p-preserve her modesty, that's all."  
_  
_Sighing, Ratty pulled Ronnie's jean jacket closed and buttoned it. "There."  
_  
_"Thank you," John said quietly, and they walked on.  
_  
_But two minutes later...  
_  
_"Erm, Ratty?"  
_  
_"Yes, what is it?"  
_  
_"I...um..."  
_  
_Ratty turned once more and saw that Ronnie was still fully covered. He stared at John curiously.  
_  
_"She's exposed," John said nervously and nodded towards his right hand, which was gripping Ronnie's bare skin.  
_  
_"Her shirt bunched up because of the manner in which you're holding her," Ratty said with a shrug. "It's perfectly natural."  
_  
_John shook his head. "Would you...would you please fix her shirt?"  
_  
_"Oh, Deaky," Ratty murmured, but he stepped forward and yanked Ronnie's shirt down to her hips.  
_  
_"Thank you," John whispered.  
_  
_Ratty couldn't have been more relieved when they reached the hotel, before John could get upset over an exposed collarbone or something else completely normal. Unlocking the hotel room he was sharing with John and flipping on the light switch, Ratty watched as John carefully laid Ronnie on his own bed.  
_  
_"Deaky, you can put her in my bed," Ratty offered.  
_  
_John shook his head. "I don't mind."  
_  
_Stepping forward, Ratty yanked off Ronnie's shoes and socks, to make her more comfortable. "You might want to turn around, Deaky, I wouldn't want you to see a bare toe or anything."  
_  
_John sat beside Ronnie and blushed.  
_  
_Ratty reached forward, unbuttoned Ronnie's jacket, and gently pulled it off of her.  
_  
_"Sleeping in a jean jacket is like sleeping in a thorn bush," he said apologetically to John, as he saw the bassist avert his eyes.  
_  
_They both sat on the bed and watched Ronnie sadly.  
_  
_"She shouldn't have come back this soon," Ratty said bitterly. "She wasn't ready."  
_  
_John felt himself reaching for her, but he quickly pulled his hand back.  
_  
_Ratty couldn't help himself; he smirked. "So when are you going to ask her out?"  
_  
_John looked up. "Out where?"  
_  
_"On a date!"  
_  
_John looked uncomfortable. "I'm not."  
_  
_"And why not?"  
_  
_"I don't think I'm her type."  
_  
_"Oh? And what's Ronnie's type?"  
_  
_John shrugged. "I dunno, guys like Roger?"  
_  
_Ratty frowned sadly at John, and was trying to think of a way to boost his confidence, when a moan from Ronnie pulled him from his thoughts.  
_  
_Reaching forward and poking her in the ribs, he whispered, "Ronnie? Is that you?"  
_  
_"Ratty, I don't feel good."  
_  
_"That's because you drunk yourself stupid, my love."  
_  
_"Where am I?"  
_  
_"The hotel room."  
_  
_Ronnie's eyes were still closed. "But I don't have one."  
_  
_"You're in mine. And Deaky's."  
_  
_Ronnie's face contorted in pain. "I ruined Deaky's shirt.  I bled all over it."  
_  
_This time, John did reach forward and put a hand on her back.  
_  
_Ratty grinned. "I'm sure he doesn't mind."  
_  
_Ronnie sighed, and slowly began to drift back asleep. Ratty got into his own bed, while John, remembering his promise to himself to keep her comfortable that night, covered her with a blanket. He then got her a glass of water, checked the thermostat to make sure the room temperature was appropriate, and dimmed the lights.  
_  
_"Do you think she needs toothpaste?" John whispered, concerned.  
_  
_Ratty burst out of laughing. "Who's going to brush her teeth? You? She can barely keep her eyes open."  
_  
_Frowning, John sat beside her on the bed once more. She was curled up on her side, with her back to him, and for that, he was grateful.  
_  
_Ratty had just drifted to sleep in his bed, and John, propped up against the headboard, was slowly nodding off, when he suddenly heard a sob.  
_  
_Looking down, he realized it had come from Ronnie, and that her shoulders were shaking. Alarmed, he put a hand on her back, which did absolutely nothing, and unsure of what to do for her, he grabbed the nearest object - the toothpaste he had brought out of the bathroom earlier - and threw it at Ratty's sleeping form.  
_  
_Ratty grunted. "That_ hurt!"  
  
_"She's upset, Ratty!"  
_  
_"Well, obviously, she just buried her parents this morning," Ratty mumbled sleepily as he dragged himself out of bed and knelt on the floor next to Ronnie's side of the bed, so that he was at eye level with her.  
_  
_"Ronnie," he said, shaking her slightly. "Ronnie, wake up!"  
_  
_Ronnie slowly opened her eyes. Ratty could see they were slightly glazed over, but focused and filled with tears."I am awake," she whispered back.  
_  
_"Are you all right?" Ratty asked, realizing what an unnecessary question that was. Of course she wasn't all right.  
_  
_"I think the alcohol is wearing off, Ratty," Ronnie whispered. "I'm beginning to feel again."  
_  
_"Good," Ratty said sternly. "You should have let yourself feel in the first place, instead of getting shitfaced."  
_  
_Ronnie shook her head. "I'm not ready."  
_  
_"You never_ will _be ready, Ronnie," Ratty insisted. "So feel it now and get it over with. Better out than in, right?"  
_  
_Ronnie shook her head again, and Ratty watched sadly as she bit her lip against another sob.  "I miss them so much, Ratty!"  
_  
_John leaned over her. "What can I do for her?" he whispered to Ratty anxiously.  
_  
_Ratty looked at him sadly. "What do you think she needs?"  
_  
_"I could make her cheese on toast? Or get a doctor?"  
_  
_Ratty rolled his eyes. "Just hold her, Deaky."  
_  
_"What?"  
_  
_"You heard me."  
_  
_John froze, staring down at Ronnie nervously, but when she began to cry in earnest, he immediately lay next to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Ratty noticed that he didn't put his arms around her waist - of course he didn't, that was what lovers did. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her upper body, folding her against his chest._  
_Ronnie instantly melted back against him and clung to his forearms as she buried her face in John's pillow.  
_  
_Blinking back the moisture that was forming in the corner of his eyes, Ratty patted her hand. Ronnie was like the little sister he never wanted, and he couldn't bear to see her in so much pain.  
_  
_After Ronnie's sobs had subsided, Ratty heard her say tearfully, "Ratty?"  
_  
_"Yes, Ronnie?"  
_  
_"I'm sorry."  
_  
_"Shut up. You know you don't need to be sorry."  
_  
_"Ratty?"  
_  
_"Mmhmm?"  
_  
_"If you're in front of me...who is holding me right now?"  
_  
_Ratty lifted his eyes and saw John slowly shake his head. It was at that moment that he knew that John was too embarrassed for Ronnie to know it was him, though for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.  
_  
_"No one," Ratty replied.  
_  
_"But I feel them.  Right now."  
_  
_"That's because you're drunk, Ronnie," Ratty explained. "You're hallucinating. There's no one there."  
  
__Ronnie frowned and traced a finger along the inside of John's wrist.  John shivered.  
  
"Then whose arm is this?" she asked._  
  
_"That's your arm, Ronnie."_  
  
_"I feel so safe," Ronnie murmured sleepily.  
_  
_"Yes, well...you're welcome."  
_  
_Twice more that night, Ronnie woke up experiencing fits of grief, and each time, Ratty watched as John patiently held her tightly and whispered into her ear. When the sun finally rose, illuminating John's exhausted expression and Ronnie's peacefully sleeping face, Ratty saw John lifted his head.  
_  
_"Ratty?"  
_  
_"Yes, Deaky?"  
_  
_"Please don't tell her about this."  
_  
_"Why not? You must know how much she would appreciate it. Not just anyone would stay up all night with her to help her through this."  
_  
_"I'm not ready for her to know."  
_  
_Ratty nodded in agreement. "When can I tell her?"  
_  
_"When she really needs to hear about it," John said simply, and looking down at Ronnie, he thought sadly how this would likely be the closest he would ever get to her.  
_  
_Just a shadow of comfort in the middle of the night.  
  
_Ronnie stared at Ratty in shock. _  
__  
_ "So you see, Ronnie," Ratty said, "Deaky was  _always_ there for you.  He may have been shy, especially after first meeting you, but he was always looking out for you, asking about you...and after the night I just told you about, I think he took it upon himself to seriously watch over you.  He never stopped caring desperately about you and he never will, no matter what Steve does."

"It was around that time that he became a little bit less shy around me, wasn't it?" Ronnie said thoughtfully, remembering how after her parents died, John started to seek her out to ask how she was doing, what she thought of a specific Queen song or performance, who else she was currently listening to...

Ratty grinned and nodded.  "You're friendship advanced that night and you didn't even know it!"

Ronnie stared at Ratty in wonder. "He was really there that entire night? I thought I was crazy, Ratty! Being held and hearing whispering, I almost managed to convince myself that it was my mum and dad."  
  
Ratty smiled. "Oh, you were quite sane. Deaky rode every wave of pain with you that night.  And then he didn't touch you again until that ridiculous group hug in the hotel lobby when the band learned you were pregnant with Robert."  
  
"No, I held his hand when you electrocuted him, remember?" Ronnie teased.  
  
Ratty grunted in response.  
  
"It's sweet that you thought that story would keep me here," Ronnie said.  
  
Ratty frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Now I feel like the need to get to Deaky is even _more_ urgent," Ronnie said as she leaned forward and kissed Ratty on the cheek. "See you at the wedding tomorrow."  
  
And before he could respond, she flipped the lock, jumped out of the car, and ran down the street, ignoring Ratty's irate shouts.  
  
Within ninety seconds, she was holding an arm around the splitting pain in her side and she had to stop to catch her breath. She pressed a palm against her pregnant belly and sent a silent apology to the baby for the sudden, intense aerobic exercise.  
  
Flashing lights distracted her, and turning her head to the left, her jaw dropped. Before her was the scene of the atrocious car accident she had heard about on the radio, the one responsible for all of this traffic, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the completely totaled car and the sight of a body lying on a stretcher.  
  
The body was covered with a sheet and Ronnie knew that the poor soul had perished.  
  
A vicious wind blew in from the north at that moment, blowing back the sheet. But before the paramedic could hastily place it back over the victim's face, Ronnie recognized the face of the dead man.  
  
It was Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...once again, this isn't the end. My apologies, I didn't realize I still had so much left to say! I suppose I could have added the last part onto this chapter but it would have seemed too rushed. We're going to end with a wedding, after all, and that's pretty important! So...one more chapter to go now. For real this time.


	27. Chapter 27

John took a deep breath and picked up the telephone. This was a conversation that he didn't want to have, and especially not in Freddie and Roger's kitchen, but it was a conversation that needed to happen now in order for all of the wedding guests to be contacted on time.  
  
But John found he couldn't bring himself to call his mother. His fingers hovered over the numbers but he wasn't sure how he was going to explain his current situation to her.  
  
_Hello Mum. It's John.  
_  
_No, no, I'm fine. Just a bit congested, that's all. Listen, I have something to tell you.  
_  
_The wedding has been cancelled.  
_  
_No, honestly, everything's fine. It's just not...not the right time.  
_  
_Could you tell Julie? And perhaps contact the rest of the family to tell them not to come? I would but...  
_  
John's eyes filled with fresh tears.  
  
_...but I'm heartbroken, Mum. I suppose I'll be f-fine eventually but...well, there won't be time to fall apart because I'm a single dad now. And...and what you don't know is that she was pregnant, Mum, and it's mine, and she's going to put it up for adoption. And I w-wish I could talk to her because I'd tell her that by giving the baby away, she's giving away a part of my heart, too. Not a difficult thing to do, considering it's already broken into a hundred little pieces...  
_  
_Help me, Mum. How will I do this on my own? How will I live without her?  
_  
"Darling?"  
  
John jumped and quickly hung up the phone.  
  
"Would you like me to call her?" Freddie offered kindly, as he cradled little Robert.  
  
John shook his head. "Thank you but...I'll be f-fine."  
  
It was at that moment that a loud, borderline vicious knock reverberated off the front door. Brian placed a hand on the door knob and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Freddie and Roger.  
  
Roger sighed in disgust. "Tell them visiting hours are over."  
  
Brian opened the front door to do exactly that and stared at their visitor in shock. " _Ronnie!?_ "  
  
John's first thought was that he needed to get out of the kitchen, while Roger's immediate thought was that he needed to get to John's side to offer some kind of emotional support. The result was a painful collision between the two that ended with Roger pushing John into the kitchen cupboard, squeezing into the small space beside him, and slamming the door shut.  
  
Freddie watched the entire scene play out with a fascinated expression, as Robert stretched out his little arms and cried out, "Ma! Ma!"  
  
"Hello darling!" Ronnie exclaimed, as she lifted Robert from Freddie's arms and planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek. Robert giggled.  
  
"Thank God you're here," Freddie said with exaggerated relief, "because we need to ask you - "  
  
"Ronnie, what's happened?" Brian interrupted, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice as he observed the way Ronnie's fingers were shaking, and the haunted look in her eyes, and the way she couldn't seem to take in a deep breath, as if she had been running very fast for a very long time...  
  
"You're terribly pale, dear," Freddie remarked.  
  
"I need to talk to John right away," Ronnie said breathlessly, as she looked around the kitchen. "Where is he?"  
  
Brian looked around, as well, unsure of where John (and for that matter, Roger) had disappeared to. But Freddie shot a knowing glance at the cupboard door and from inside, Roger hissed through his teeth.  
  
"He better not give us away," he whispered as he peered through the tiny keyhole to see what was transpiring in the kitchen.  
  
John leaned his head against the wall and looked away.  
  
"We'll find John in a moment," Brian promised, "but first, tell us..."  
  
"...why you look like you've seen a ghost," Freddie finished.  
  
Ronnie flinched at Freddie's choice of words. Ghosts...dead people...Steve.  
  
But she recovered herself quickly and said in a tight voice, "Because I'm piss-" She glanced down at her son, sighed, and finished with, "...very, very angry."  
  
"Yes, that much is clear," Freddie observed, "but why?"  
  
Ronnie began to pace around the kitchen restlessly. "He's dead."  
  
Brian frowned. "Who's dead?"  
  
"Steve."  
  
From inside the cupboard, John leaned forward, while Roger grumbled to himself, "Finally."  
  
"You mean to say he rotted in his jail cell?" Freddie asked with interest.  
  
"N-no," Ronnie said. "I saw him just now. Dead."  
  
"Darling, we are missing some very important plot points. What aren't you telling us?"  
  
"Ratty and I were stuck in a traffic jam because of a car accident, so I got out of the car and ran here, and I passed the accident and it was _terrible_ , and I saw the driver and it was _Steve_ and h-he was...he was..."  
  
"Dead," Brian finished for her.  
  
Ronnie nodded and went silent a she tried to process all of the conflicting emotions she was feeling. Wedding nerves and pregnancy hormones were a difficult enough combination, but added on to that was the nagging pain that her parents would not be there tomorrow to see her get married, and the strange fear she felt for John because of this note she knew nothing about, and the otherworldly terror that was slowly creeping through her veins at the thought of Steve being dead, and the guilt because why wasn't she happier about it, why wasn't she _relieved_...  
  
"How _dare_ he!" Ronnie burst out suddenly.  
  
Freddie stared at her, incredulous. "How dare he die and leave us all in peace? I rather think we should go down to that accident, shake his hand, and thank him!"  
  
"Freddie!" Brian exclaimed, while in the cupboard, Roger pressed a hand over his mouth to suppress a laugh.  
  
"I think you need to tell us what happened," Brian said gently, as he sat Ronnie at the table and looked up at Freddie. "Do you have any tea?"  
  
"Of course," Freddie said with a smirk. "Let me check the _cupboard_."  
  
Roger quickly looked to his left, at the shelf where they kept the tea, and wrapped his hands around the door knob to keep the door shut tightly.  
  
"I'd like to know how Steve got out of his jail cell," Brian said.  
  
Freddie pulled on the cupboard door and when it didn't budge, he frowned and pulled harder.  
  
"He told me it was because of good behavior," Ronnie said quietly, as she held Robert tightly against her chest.  
  
"Like hell it was!" Freddie fumed, as he crouched down and put an eye to the cupboard key hole. Roger's blue eye blinked back at him.  
  
Putting his lips to the key hole, Freddie hissed, "Open the door!"  
  
"I don't believe that," Brian said tightly. "I'll bet anything that he found a way to escape."  
  
The cupboard door opened a crack and Roger thrust his arm out to throw a box of tea at Freddie, before closing the door abruptly once more.  
  
Brian and Ronnie had both witnessed the mysterious arm that had come from the cupboard. Brian was not at all surprised, but Ronnie leaned forward curiously.  
  
"Who's in the cupboard?"  
  
From inside, John looked at Roger anxiously. Sighing, Roger opened the door, slipped out, and closed the door behind him.  
  
"Just me," he said casually. "No one else."  
  
"What were you doing in there?"  
  
"I was...alphabetizing the cereals," Roger replied nervously.  
  
"Were you now?" Brian asked politely. "All three of them?"  
  
Roger scowled.  
  
"I should really talk to John," Ronnie said suddenly. "I don't know what sort of damage Steve might have done with his note and..."  
  
"Steve's note?" Freddie said quickly. "You mean, you didn't write that note?"  
  
"No," Ronnie admitted, as Roger looked over his shoulder at the cupboard. John took Roger's place in front of the keyhole and looked out, his heart pounding.  
  
"I knew it," Brian said, more to himself than anyone else.  
  
"Was it that bad?" Ronnie asked anxiously.  
  
"Well, it was rather..." Brian began.  
  
"It was _terrible_ ," Roger interrupted, as he once again threw a look at the cupboard and used his eyes to urge John to come out. Now that they knew Ronnie definitely didn't write the note, there was no reason for him to stay away.  
  
"Do you have it?" Ronnie asked in a small voice.  
  
Roger, Brian, and Freddie shared a long look, before Brian went out to the living room and returned with the note. They were all silent as Ronnie's eyes traveled down the wrinkled paper.  
  
Freddie put a hot cup of tea in front of her as Robert reached up and patted her face. John put his hand on the door knob and twisted it, thinking perhaps he was ready to have this conversation.  
  
"How could he," she whispered.  
  
"Exactly!" Freddie agreed. "How could Steve even think that..."  
  
"No," Ronnie said in a low voice as she looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "How could _John_ believe this? He actually thought that I would do this him?"  
  
John took his hand off of the door knob and sat back on the ground. She was right. How _could_ he?  
  
"But think about it, Ronnie," Brian said reasonably. "The handwriting is identical to yours. There's information in that letter that very few people know, like your pregnancy."  
  
"And it came with your ring," Roger added.  
  
"My ring?" Ronnie asked in surprise. "I've been looking for that everywhere."  
  
"There was enough evidence to make Deaky believe that letter was from you, darling," Freddie said sadly.  
  
"It's my fault," Ronnie said, as a tear ran down her face. "It's my fault that he believed it."  
  
"How so?" Roger asked, tilting his head.  
  
"I have never been able to make any firm decisions about our relationship," Ronnie said miserably. "I've never, ever known exactly what I've wanted. And because of that, I've instilled enough doubt in him that it wouldn't have been hard for him to believe this letter."  
  
"This isn't your fault, darling," Freddie said gently.  
  
"It is! If I hadn't been so _pathetic_..."  
  
Roger's fingers slowly crawled across the table and grasped Ronnie's fingers. Robert reached down and hit their clasped hands with his little palm, as if he had caught a spider.  
  
"Don't say that," Brian said firmly. "You're not pathetic, you're _young_. Tell me what young person truly knows what they want at your age?"  
  
"And people who know exactly what they want are terribly boring anyway," Freddie added.  
  
"Ronnie, how did you even know about the note?" Roger asked.  
  
"When I got home tonight, Steve was outside our flat," Ronnie explained. "And he said he was there to apologize for everything that he had done, and then before he left, he told me to come here and tell John that he was the one who wrote the note."  
  
Ronnie suddenly squeezed Roger's hand tightly.  
  
"And I'm furious that he had the nerve to show up at our doorstep _the night before the wedding_ , I'm furious that he had the nerve to apologize for everything he's done!"  
  
"Yes, go on," Roger said, with an encouraging nod.  
  
"And I'm so angry that he wrote this note, that he caused so much grief on an evening that was supposed to be so happy! And then he has the nerve to die!?"  
  
"Why is that bothering you so much, Ronnie?" Brian asked carefully. "He's gone and he can't hurt you anymore."  
  
"But he's a ghost now, right?" Roger pointed out. "Won't that be worse?"  
  
Brian shot Roger a look. "There's no such things as ghosts."  
  
"You don't know that!" Roger retorted. "Not everything can be explained with science!"  
  
"Well, have you ever seen one?" Brian countered. "Do you have evidence?"  
  
"All I'm saying is, that as a ghost, he'd be invincible," Roger reasoned. "No jail could hold him and..."  
  
"Roger!" Brian said sharply.  
  
"Roger's right," Ronnie said, as the anger in her eyes was replaced with fear. "The mere fact that he's dead fills me such an unexplainable feeling of dread, it makes my skin _crawl_ because..."  
  
"Because?" Freddie prompted her.  
  
Ronnie sighed. "The night that we...that we..."  
  
"Shagged?" Roger offered, just as Brian touched Robert's little head and said, "Created this beautiful little child?"  
  
"Yes, that night," Ronnie said, and John felt an uncharacteristic bolt of jealousy surge through him.  
  
"He was asleep when I left him that night," she continued. "And I remember looking down at his face, knowing I'd never see him again, as per our agreement, but thinking that he looked so peaceful..."

"Yes, orgasms tend to do that," Freddie muttered and Brian glanced at him, his expression a warning.  
  
Ronnie's eyes had widened, as if she were in a trance, as if she had transported herself back to that very hotel room on that very night.  
  
"And when I saw him dead on the stretcher tonight, I thought to myself that he looked the exact same way. Just like he was sleeping. And it made me think about how suddenly this could all be gone, how he was there at our flat one moment, and the next moment he was dead."  
  
Roger, Freddie, and Brian were staring at her, quite amazed at how deep this conversation was turning. In the cupboard, John was gazing through the keyhole, unable to take his eyes off of Ronnie and wishing he could make himself move and go to her. Even Robert had fallen silent for a moment and stopped squirming.  
  
"But I won't miss him," Ronnie added. "He terrorized me enough, he caused enough trouble. But there was still that one night when I believed he was something special. He still left behind a piece of himself in this world."  
  
And she looked down at her son. At John's son. She was relieved to realize that she could find no trace of Steve in Robert. She only saw herself, which is exactly how John told her it would be.  
  
Robert blinked back at her as he played with her curls.  
  
"It's completely normal for you to think all of those things," Brian said quietly. "For an incident like this to make you question mortality. For you to feel strange and uncomfortable because as rotten as Steve was..."  
  
"Scoundrel," Freddie muttered. "Villainy."  
  
"...you did share one intimate moment with him and he did give you something wonderful...though unexpected." And Brian nodded towards Robert.  
  
"Thank you, Dr. May," Roger said under his breath.  
  
As Ronnie smiled down at Robert, Freddie fixed the cupboard with an intense stare and crooked his finger, beckoning John to come out.  
  
From inside the cupboard, John shook his head, though he knew no one could see him.  
  
"I have a theory," Brian said suddenly. "And perhaps it'll bring you peace."  
  
"Yes?" Ronnie said, looking up and thinking how she could really use some peace.  
  
"I think Steve's intent for writing this note was to kidnap you."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure that brings her so much peace, Bri," Roger agreed sarcastically.  
  
"Hear me out," Brian said, holding up a hand. "He writes this note to John, pretending to be you, saying that you were leaving for good. I think he was planning to come to your flat and abduct you."  
  
"Why?" Roger asked flatly.  
  
"Perhaps to try to get another _heir_ off her?" Brian suggested, saying the word as if it was the filthiest thing he had ever heard. "He would have been able to whisk Ronnie away and no one would have looked for her, or asked questions, because they would have thought she had left for a life on the road."  
  
"And he didn't follow through because he's a coward?" Freddie suggested.  
  
"I think he had a change of heart. He got as far as your flat, Ronnie, but then instead, he apologized, told you about the note, and left."  
  
"There's so much in that note that he shouldn't have known," Ronnie said, her voice shaking slightly. "How would he have known Robert's name? Or that I had initially had a difficult time when all of you were on the tour without me? Or that I'm _pregnant?_ "  
  
"He had to have been watching...and listening," Roger whispered, his eyes wide. "For a very long time."  
  
"And he was physically in our flat," Ronnie continued in a low voice. "He took my ring. He obtained a sample of my handwriting."  
  
"But the important thing is that he admitted what he did to you and he left," Brian reminded her. "And for that reason, I highly doubt he is going to haunt you in the afterlife."  
  
Ronnie was silent for a moment, before she smiled at Brian and squeezed his hand.  
  
"Thanks, Bri," she said. "That actually does make me feel better."  
  
\---  
  
Eventually, the band, Ronnie, and Robert moved to the comfort of the living room, all except for Freddie, who remained in the doorway and watched as John quickly slipped out of the cupboard and made his way over to the front door.  
  
Sensing Freddie's eyes on his back, he looked over his shoulder and said, "I won't go far. I just need a moment. And some fresh air."  
  
Freddie watched him for a moment, before nodding silently.  
  
When he entered the living room, Roger looked at him expectantly. "Where's Deaky?"  
  
"He..." Freddie glanced at Ronnie, who was looking at him anxiously. "He stepped outside for some air."  
  
"You let him go _outside?_ " Roger sounded completely and utterly betrayed.  
  
"He was here?" Ronnie whispered.  
  
"He was in the cupboard the entire time!" Roger fumed.  
  
Ronnie's mouth dropped open. "He heard everything?"  
  
"At least you won't have to repeat it a second time," Freddie pointed out cheerfully.  
  
"And then he left?" Ronnie said in a disappointed voice.  
  
"Oh, you didn't know?" Roger said sarcastically. "It's midnight, so apparently he had to flee before he turned into a pumpkin."  
  
"Roger, dear, this isn't like earlier," Freddie assured him. "He is safe, outside on the steps, and he'll come in when he's ready to come in."  
  
Finally satisfied with the status of John's well being, Roger reluctantly settled back into his seat.  
  
But after a half an hour, Freddie excused himself to step out into the cold, winter air.  Sitting on the steps beside John, he fixed the bassist with a knowing look until John, uncomfortable with someone watching him as intensely as Freddie was, looked over at him.  
  
"She didn't write the note, darling," Freddie pointed out.  
  
"I know."  
  
"So why aren't you in there with her?"  
  
"Because I should have had more faith in her, Freddie," John said quietly. "I should have _known_ she'd never do that to me, or our little family...the look on her face when she learned that I...that I had believed it..." John looked down at his knees in shame.  
  
"That's no reason to sit outside in the cold by yourself," Freddie said. "Go inside and hold her and tell her how you feel."  
  
John shook his head. "I don't want her to see me like this."  
  
"Like how? Head over heels in love?"  
  
John turned to Freddie. "No. Like _this_."  
  
Freddie had to admit that he had seen John look so much better than he currently was. He frowned and tilted his head, thinking that perhaps if he saw John in a different light, from a different angle...  
  
...no, that didn't help at all. John was a piece of art in his own right, but not the kind of art Freddie had studied at school. Looking at John from a different direction was not going to change the fact that he was terribly upset and it was entirely obvious.  
  
"That's nothing to be ashamed about, darling. I only hope that I'm lucky enough to love someone that deeply one day."  
  
"But I should have known I couldn't do this," John said bitterly. "I s-should have known I'm too f-fragile to be in a relationship. I don't know what ever made me believe that...that I..."  
  
Freddie waited patiently for John to say what he had to say.  
  
"I'm too shy," John finished, sounding thoroughly disappointed in himself. "I'm too _sweet_. I'm too soft."  
  
"Oh, you're not _that_ soft, dear."  
  
John looked over at Freddie in surprise.  
  
"Yes, you're sort of quiet. Lots of people think that. But I wouldn't underestimate you. You've got a fiery streak underneath all that. But once people crack that thin ice, then you're all right."  
  
"You really think so?"  
  
"Sure," Freddie said with a wink. "We can never stop you from talking then."  
  
John looked out at the dark, empty street, pondering Freddie's words.  
  
"Let her crack your ice, darling," Freddie said, giving John an encouraging pat on the back, before disappearing back into the flat.  
  
As John worked up the nerve to go inside, he thought to himself that perhaps Freddie was right. What was he so afraid of? Ronnie was loving, she was accepting, she had proven it to him time and time again.  
  
Beginning with that one night...John leaned back against the brick facade of the building and allowed himself to be transported back to another time.  
  
**1972  
**  
_It had been the strangest sensation. A rather uncomfortable jolt that had caused him to shout and jerk unnaturally, and then it was over and he was sitting on the stage, stunned.  
_  
_It took a moment for him to recover his vision, but when he did, he saw Ronnie running towards him. He watched as she jumped effortlessly onto the stage, without bothering to use the stairs, and fell to her knees beside him.  
_  
_"You could have used the stairs," he heard Ratty say, though he sounded impressed.  
_  
_"Deaky?" she said in a low, urgent voice, as she put her hands on John's shoulders. "Deaky, are you all right?"  
_  
_John looked up at her, dazed, and gave her a soft smile. Ratty knelt beside them and studied John's face closely.  
_  
_"Oh my_ God _, Ratty!" Ronnie yelled. "You electrocuted him!"  
_  
_"What?" Ratty exclaimed. "Me?"  
_  
_"Yes, you! Did you or did you not just plug in the amp Deaky was working on?"  
_  
_"Well, yes, but..."  
_  
_"Ratty, how could you!"  
_  
_"Ronnie, I didn't do it on purpose! I didn't know he was working on it!"  
_  
_John's eyes fluttered closed.  
_  
_"No," Ronnie said, her tone warning, as she put a palm against his cheek. "No, Deaky, you need to stay awake for me."  
_  
_John's eyes lazily opened as Roger ran onto the stage.  
_  
_"I heard shouts," he said, as he bent over and tried to catch his breath.  
_  
_"Roger, do you know where the medical team is?" Ronnie asked anxiously.  
_  
_"Sure," Roger replied. "They're checking out Freddie's toenail. He thinks he's bleeding."  
_  
_"Will you get them, please? Ratty just tried to kill Deaky."  
_  
_"Ronnie!" Ratty said in astonishment.  
_  
_"Well, honestly, Ratty!" Ronnie hissed, as Roger ran off the stage. "Why didn't you check to make sure no one was touching it before you plugged it in?"  
_  
_"Because why is Deaky checking his own amp?" Ratty retorted. "That's my job!"  
_  
_"It's the Deaky amp, he can do what he likes with it!" Ronnie argued.  
_  
_"Yes, well..."  
_  
_"Deaky?" Ronnie said gently, as she squeezed his hand.  
_  
_"I'm fine," John whispered, as a shiver ran down his spine.  
_  
_Ronnie brushed a lock of hair away from his face. "What's your name?"  
_  
_"John Richard Deacon."  
_  
_"And what's your birth date?"  
_  
_"August 19, 1951."  
_  
_"Ronnie, he's fine," Ratty insisted, before turning to John and saying sincerely, "I'm sorry, Deaky. I had no idea you were working on the amp."  
_  
_John gave Ratty a tired nod. "It's all right, truly."  
_  
_Ronnie took both of John's hands and held them tightly.  
_  
_"I'm sorry, Ronnie."  
_  
_Ronnie glanced at Ratty, and when she saw how regretful he looked, she gave him a reassuring smile. "Me too, Ratty. I'm sorry I yelled at you."  
_  
_She turned her attention back to John. His eyes were now wide open and he was staring at her strangely...concerned, Ronnie sat beside him and scooted close to him, until they were - as Ratty would say - cheek to cheek - and held onto him, whispering to him constantly to keep him focused.  
_  
_John had been thinking about how kind she was, and how lovely she was, and how his heart beat a bit faster whenever she was near, and how he wished he had the courage to ask her out one night after one of the shows. That was what he had been thinking when he had been staring at her so intently...he could ask her out now, and if she said no, he could take it back and blame it on the electrical shock...  
_  
_Suddenly very tired, John's head dropped onto Ronnie's shoulder. Normally, he would have been much too shy to allow this to happen - and later on, he'd be terribly embarrassed about it - but at that moment, he couldn't help it.  
_  
_He felt Ronnie press her cheek against his. "Stay with me, John," she said quietly. "Are you awake?"  
_  
_"Mmhmm."  
_  
_"Are you sure?"  
_  
_"Mmhmm."  
_  
_Ronnie squeezed his hands again as the thundering footsteps of the medical team approached.  
_  
_"Thank you, miss," one of the doctors said, as they prepared to move her out of the way. "We'll take over from here."  
_  
_"No!" Ronnie said quickly. "No, please. Let me stay with him."  
_  
_The doctor stared at her for a moment, before shrugging. "Suit yourself."  
_  
_As they checked John's vitals, and peered into his eyes with a light, and quizzed him on basic facts, Ronnie sat by his side, with one arm protectively around him, while holding his hand.  
_  
_At one point, John looked over at her and saw her brown eyes staring into his. The corner of her mouth curled up and slowly, so very slowly, her face broke into the gentlest smile as she squeezed his hand.  
_  
_Looking back, John was certain that was the moment he had fallen completely and irrevocably in love with her.  
_  
_"All right there, Deaky?" she asked.  
_  
_"I think so," John answered with a small smile of his own. "Thank you, Ronnie."  
_  
_"Of course," she replied. "I'm always here."  
_  
_John would hold those words closely for a long time.  
_  
And John realized that now, years later, he still was.  
  
John Deacon from 1972 would never have believed that he'd one day be marrying that same girl. That he'd have a small family with her, that he'd know every square inch of her body, that she would fiercely love him in return.  
  
But despite what had happened that night, that was all still true. Nothing had changed. And clinging to this realization, John finally returned to the flat.  
  
\---  
  
After making sure her ring was firmly back on her finger where it belonged, Ronnie sat at the piano. The pieces of torn paper that were scattered over the keys had drawn her there and when she recognized John's handwriting, she found herself trying to put the pieces back together.  
  
Fixing two pieces side by side, she saw the words Veronica's Song. She was just about to ponder the significance of this, when a finger appeared beside her and tapped out the beginning notes to Keep Yourself Alive.  
  
Ronnie, already on edge to begin with, let out a shriek and jumped to her feet in fear, knocking the bench over and retreating behind the piano.  
  
A stunned Roger stared back at her.  
  
"Roger!" Brian snapped.  
  
"Oh, right," Roger said apologetically. "I'm sorry, Ronnie, I forgot you have ghosts on your mind tonight."  
  
Ronnie pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart. "That's all right, Rog." She stared at the fragments of paper that had drifted to the floor during her episode of fear and suddenly had an idea.  
  
"Roger, do you have any tape?"  
  
"Yes, it's the least you can do after you frightened her out of her wits," Brian said irritably, as Roger hurried to the kitchen and returned with a tape dispenser.  
  
Ronnie settled herself in a large, comfortable armchair and assured Brian and Roger that she would be fine. As they walked back to the bedrooms to join Freddie and Robert, she heard Brian say, "Honestly, Roger, she saw a dead man tonight! You couldn't have chosen something other than Keep Yourself Alive?"  
  
Taking in a deep breath, Ronnie painstakingly put the pieces of paper back together, using her lap for leverage. Whenever she found a definite match, she taped the pieces together and allowed herself to feel an enormous sense of accomplishment, just like whenever she bothered to do a puzzle....which was never.  
  
Finally, the sheet of paper was once more intact, if a little the worse for wear. Touching the paper gently, Ronnie stared at the title, Veronica's Song, and dared to believe that the song was for her.  
  
_Ooh, you make me live_  
_Whatever this world can give to me_  
_It's you, you're all I see_  
_Ooh, you make me live now honey_  
_Ooh, you make me live_  
  
Ronnie gazed at John's familiar handwriting and allowed his words to surround her completely.  
  
_Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had_  
_I've been with you such a long time_  
_You're my sunshine and I want you to know_  
_That my feelings are true_  
_I really love you_  
_Oh, you're my best friend_  
  
When she had finished reading John's song, Ronnie reclined the chair backwards, curled up onto her side, and pressed the paper against her heart. Feeling very overwhelmed, and so incredibly loved, she closed her eyes and cried herself happily to sleep.  
  
That was how John found her when he finally allowed himself to return to the flat. Leaning over the armchair, he found himself noticing how very young she looked when she slept. If he hadn't known her, he would have never guessed she was a mother, and was expecting another child, and that she was all his...  
  
It was then that he noticed that Ronnie was hugging something to her chest. He gently pried it out of her fingers and saw his song for her, the one he had torn apart earlier, taped back together. And when he saw the tape dispenser on the arm of the chair, he knew that she had been the one to do it.  
  
Unable to stay away from her any longer, John carefully lifted her out of the chair and settled her on his lap.  He gathered her against his chest, as he had done so many times before, and held her.  
  
The gentle beating of a heart against her ear woke Ronnie, and as she opened her eyes and found that she was in a pair of arms, she tensed up, as she thought of ghosts and death and conspiracies. But a familiar scent surrounded her and brown waves of hair gently tickled her face and she knew she was safe with John.  
  
She immediately lifted her head, because she wanted to look him in the eye when she said what she needed to say, but he gently held her head against his chest. "It's all right," he whispered. "Rest."  
  
_There's no time for that!_ Ronnie thought anxiously to herself. She had to make sure that John was all right. She tried to sit up once more, but he held her tighter and rested his chin on top of her head.  
  
It was then that realization dawned on her, and Ronnie said very quietly, "Why won't you let me look at you?"  
  
John shifted uncomfortably and pressed his cheek against her hair. "B-because."  
  
"Because why?"  
  
"Because there's nothing to see."  
  
"Of course there is!" Ronnie exclaimed softly. "There's you."  
  
"I don't want you see me like this."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ronnie asked.  
  
"I don't want you to see that I've been..." John trailed off, and Ronnie used the opportunity to tickle him in the ribs. Momentarily startled, John loosened his grip on her, and Ronnie sat up on his lap and stared at him.  
  
"Crying?" she finished gently for him, as she reached out and touched his face. Even in the very dim lamp light, she could see that his eyes were red, and his cheeks were blotchy, as if he had sobbed his heart out very recently. Ronnie guessed that he had.  
  
John looked away and she knew he was embarrassed.  
  
"I've cried in front of you thousands of time," Ronnie reminded him.  
  
It was true.  John had seen her at her most vulnerable, there was no reason that she shouldn't see him in the same light.  Freddie's words echoed clearly through his mind. _Let her crack your ice, darling.  
_  
John forced himself to turn his head back and look her in the eye. "I'm...I'm sorry I didn't come out of the cupboard earlier. At first I couldn't face you because of the note and then...when I learned you didn't write it, I was so ashamed for believing that you did..."  
  
Ronnie held John's hand and waited patiently for him to go on.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ronnie," John said very quietly. "I should have known better."  
  
Ronnie shook her head. "I would have believed it, too."  
  
"I'm just...so afraid of losing you," John whispered. "It's ridiculous, pathetic really..."  
  
"Of course it's not," Ronnie said softly. "I feel the exact same way about you."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes," Ronnie said emphatically. "Which is why I'm so sorry for what you had to go through tonight. I can't even imagine...but know this, Deaky."  
  
John's heart swelled at the sound of his nickname on her lips.  
  
"You will never lose me," Ronnie whispered as she re-positioned herself on John's lap, not even caring that she was now straddling him.  She had to look him directly in the eye and make him understand.

"Never, _ever_ ," she continued.  "I will always be here."  
  
"You said that the night I was electrocuted," John said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile.

"I remember," Ronnie answered with a smile of her own.

"That was the night..." John stopped suddenly.

"Yes?" Ronnie prompted him gently.

 _Let her crack your ice, darling_.

"That was the night I f-fell in love with you," John whispered.

Ronnie's breath caught in her throat, before she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, gently at first, until she felt John deepening the kiss and pulling her closer, and closer, until her swollen belly was pinned against his, and even though they couldn't physically be any closer than they already were, he still tried, as if there was some kind of way to pull her into him, and she wondered how it had taken her so long to realize she needed him this much, when he had known all along, he had known  _years_ ago...

...which meant that he had already loved her on the night that she had gone searching for some kind of human connection and found it with Steve.  While she had been locked in a hotel room giving an incredibly special part of herself away to him, John was only a few floors up, wishing he had the nerve to just ask her out. 

Ronnie wished it had been him instead of Steve.  It was times like these that she truly believed she was stupid.  If she had bothered to open her eyes, and her heart, she would have seen John there all along.

The realization made her break away and bury her face in his long hair.

Remembering how much Steve's death had affected her earlier, John touched her back gently.  "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Ronnie said truthfully.  "I've accepted it.  He put us through so much shit, John, but when I was taping together this song..." Ronnie pulled away to hold up the paper that contained Veronica's Song and tilted her head.

"It's for you," John said shyly. "Happy Wedding Day."  
  
John knew from the smile that was lighting up her face and the tears that were burning in her eyes that she truly loved it.  

"Thank you," she whispered.  "John it's...it's _everything_."

John's cheeks burned, but he was clearly pleased.

"When I was taping it back together, I realized that I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.  Every single agonizing moment.  Because it led me to you."

John swallowed hard.  "I would too," he whispered, before mustering a small smile.  "That's good to k-know, because I think you're the only girl who would ever have me."  
  
"You know that's not true! John, you're sweet, and handsome, and an incredible bass player..."  
  
Even in the dim light, Ronnie could see John blushing furiously. Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, "And you look pretty great in leather pants and you're fingers are sooo long..."  
  
John inhaled sharply and knocked the tape dispenser to the floor.  
  
Ronnie grinned. "What I'm trying to say is...I love you."  
  
John stared at her in surprise, before pulling her closer. "That's the first time you've ever said that to me."  
  
"I know. It's long over due."  
  
Suddenly feeling braver, John placed his hands on Ronnie's waist and leaned her back slightly.  Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against her pregnant belly.  
  
Ronnie stared at him in awe as she remember a time that seemed so long ago, when she had been a terrified girl, pregnant for the first time, at a Who concert watching as a loving husband kissed the pregnant belly of his happy wife. She had longed for that, and believed she didn't deserve it, but there had been a boy who loved her that much only a few feet away.  
  
There had been a time when she was hesitant to even give that boy a year to prove that love to her.  
  
Now, as she entwined her fingers through his, she knew she would give Deaky forever.  
  
**January 18, 1975**  
  
"Ready, Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie looked up at Brian as he helped her out of the car. She showed him a brave smile, took a deep breath, and replied, "Ready."  
  
"Good, because it's too late to turn back now," an irritated voice said.  
  
Turning, they saw a thoroughly annoyed Roger staring at them, with his arms folded across his chest.  
  
"Well, hello to you too, sunshine," Brian said. "What's the problem?"  
  
"You're late!"  
  
Brian glanced at him as he gathered Ronnie's train and draped it over his arm. " _No_ , we're on time, thank you very much."  
  
"Well, you're not, because they've already locked the doors."  
  
Ronnie stared up at the stone church. "Why wouldn't they have waited for us?"  
  
"Probably because everyone thought Freddie was the bride," Roger pointed out, as Brian ran up the church steps in his freshly pressed black suit.  
  
"Freddie?" Ronnie repeated.  
  
"Yes, he's dressed all in white with a matching feather boa."  
  
Brian pulled on the door handles of the church and when the doors wouldn't budge, he knocked on them loudly.  
  
"I don't think anyone is going to hear you," Ronnie said anxiously.  
  
"Why not?" Roger asked curiously.  
  
"This is only the front door," Ronnie explained. "It opens into an entrance way, and then there's another door, followed by a welcome area, and another door."  
  
"Well, you're certainly secure," Brian admitted, as he descended the steps.  
  
"What is this, a church or a fortress?" Roger asked.  
  
"There must be another way in," Brian insisted.  
  
The trio circled the church as snowflakes swirled against a gray sky, but they only found a smaller door, also locked, and multiple stained glass windows.  
  
"Maybe we could knock on one?" Roger suggested. "Get someone's attention?"  
  
Ronnie nodded nervously. "All right."  
  
Roger got onto one knee, and held out his hands. "Come then, Ronnie, I'll give you a boost up."  
  
Ronnie had just stepped into Roger's hands when...  
  
"No!" Brian exclaimed. "Absolutely not!"  
  
"Why not?" Roger demanded.  
  
"She's pregnant! You can't just be tossing her up to windows! That's dangerous!"  
  
"Well do you have a better plan?"  
  
"Actually, I do," Brian said, pointing to a small window at the very bottom of the stone building. "We will go through the window into the basement, then find someone to unlock the front door."  
  
Roger nodded. "All right."  
  
"And by we, I mean you."  
  
"Why me?" Roger asked anxiously.  
  
"Well, Ronnie can't fit through there in her condition, and besides, she would ruin her dress."  
  
"Why aren't _you_ going through the window into the dirty basement?" Roger asked suspiciously. "You're thinner than I am."  
  
"Not necessarily," Brian replied calmly. "My arse is too big."  
  
Roger fixed Brian with a glare.  
  
"I just complimented you, Roger!" Brian said cheerfully, as he pushed the drummer towards the window. "Now get your skinny arse into the basement and save the wedding."  
  
The basement window opened easily enough and with a look of disgust, Roger crawled backwards towards it. Planting his hands firmly into the dry, winter grass, he stuck his legs through the window and was relieved when he found stable footing on some kind of surface.  
  
But as soon as he was halfway through the window, he realized that it really was quite a tight squeeze, and suddenly...he couldn't move.  
  
"I'm stuck," Roger said to Brian's long legs.  
  
"What?" Brian said in surprise. "You can't possibly be."  
  
"Well, I am! I'm bloody stuck!"  
  
Brian frowned, before crouching in front of Roger, taking his arms, and pulling.  
  
"I suppose you are stuck, aren't you?"  
  
"Fuck!" Roger shouted.  
  
"Roger!" Brian admonished him. "We're on sacred ground!"  
  
"Oh, right," Roger said, before looking up at the sky. "Lord, I could use a little help!"  
  
At that moment, Freddie's face appeared in the stained glass window directly above Roger.  
  
"Fred?" Brian whispered, before waving his arms and shouting, "Freddie!"  
  
Freddie waved back.  
  
"No!" Brian yelled, as he motioned wildly to Freddie and mimed opening a door.  
  
Freddie looked confused for a moment, before he held up his white feathered boa.  
  
Ronnie put her face in her hands. "John is going to think I left him at the altar," she moaned.  
  
"No!" Brian shook his head forcefully at Freddie, who smiled and bowed. "We're not complimenting your boa, we need help!"  
  
Ronnie crouched beside Roger, who had planted his elbows in the grass and rested his chin in his hand.  
  
"How are you doing?" she asked.  
  
"I'm going to look terrible for your wedding," Roger said miserably.  
  
"Not at all," Ronnie said kindly. "As long as you're wearing a smile, I don't care what you look like."  
  
Roger looked up at her hopefully.  
  
"Well, that didn't work," Brian said with a shrug, as he stared down at his bandmate. "But we could always bring the wedding to you!"  
  
Ronnie clamped a hand over her mouth at Roger's murderous expression and tried not to laugh at the thought of her and John getting married while standing outside in front of the basement window, with Roger on the grass between them, surrounded by wedding guests.  
  
\---  
  
Freddie glanced away from the window to look over at John, who was waiting nervously at the altar. He looked at Freddie with a pained expression, before joining him at the window and turning his back on all of the curious wedding guests, allowing only Freddie to see the full extent of his anxiety.  
  
"I'm sure they're just waiting in traffic," Freddie said reassuringly. "She'll be here.  There's nothing to worry about."

John nodded.  "I know. I b-believe in her."  But he looked back at the altar and Freddie knew he didn't like being up there by himself. The only reason John could even get up on a stage in front of hundreds of people was because the band was there with him.  
  
"Would you like me to wait up at the altar with you, darling?"  
  
John shook his head. "Freddie, everyone already thought you were the bride," he whispered, remembering how the doors had opened, a brilliant figure in white had appeared, and all of the wedding guests had turned and stood up, and his mum had been shedding tears of joy, and Ratty had his camera ready...  
  
...and when they had seen it was just Freddie, they had all sat back down in disappointment, which did not deter Freddie from walking down the aisle as if he owned it. Ratty was still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.  
  
"Oh, let me entertain them, darling!" Freddie pleaded. "Perhaps a song?"  
  
"A Queen song?" John asked doubtfully. "In the church?"  
  
"We do have a song called Jesus," Freddie reminded him.  "Or didn't you mention this morning that you had an idea for a new song?"

"Yes, but it's about Steve."

Freddie looked surprised, but very interested. "What's it called?"

John shot Freddie a sly, sideways look.  "Another One Bites The Dust."

Freddie gasped.  "Deaky, you saucy thing!"  
  
At that moment, something from outside caught John's attention, and looking out the window, he saw Brian shouting something and waving his arms.  
  
"I think they're locked out," John said and he ran off to find the priest.  
  
\---  
  
When the doors were finally open, and Roger had been extracted from the basement window and led to his seat, Brian offered Ronnie his arm.  
  
Ronnie took it gratefully as the church doors were thrown open and the first notes of the wedding march floated down the aisle toward them. She looked up at Brian, who gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.  
  
The journey down the church aisle with Brian was a strange trip, indeed. It seemed to go so quickly, yet too slow, but on they went, stopping only for Ronnie to pluck a lily out of her bouquet for Robert. He took it happily as she kissed his little cheek.  
  
Everyone was there. The Queen road crew, Lou and her diner family, John's family. John's mum, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, and John's sister, Julie, holding Robert closely. Ratty, who had brushed his hair for the occasion. Freddie in all his feathered glory. Roger, wearing the smile he had promised her.  
  
And there, at the altar, was John.  
  
Brian gave her a kiss on the cheek and put her hand in John's. Though he was dressed formally and entirely in black, his typical Deaky smile was the same as he helped her up the stairs.  
  
The service was rather long, so as Ronnie stood facing John, her hands in his, she had plenty of time to stare at John in wonder and appreciate that they had finally made it to this moment.  
  
They had both certainly been put through the wringer but Ronnie found she couldn't even feel bitter about it anymore, because it had led her right here, to this very moment, to this exact altar. If they hadn't starred in such a shitshow, it was possible they wouldn't be here now.  
  
If Steve hadn't impregnated her without her consent, would she had ever dared to look at John as anything other than Queen's immensely talented bassist?  
  
It's true that John had fallen in love with her the night he had been electrically shocked by Ratty and the amp, that much he had admitted to her the night before. But she hadn't actually realized she loved him until over a year later, at the Who concert.  
  
And they would have never been at that Who concert without Roger giving them tickets. And Roger would have never gotten the tickets if he and the rest of the band hadn't been trying to convince John to ask her on a date. And John would have never considered dating her if he hadn't found the confidence to move their relationship forward.  
  
The reason he found that confidence was because her pregnancy forced them all to spend a lot of time together. That wouldn't have necessarily happened without the pregnancy, and the pregnancy wouldn't have happened without Steve...  
  
Ronnie suddenly felt overwhelmed by the sheer extent of her relationship with John and how much they had actually shared with each other. Ice cream, fits of grief in the dark, electric shocks, and broken glass. Deaky had let her cry on his shoulder and bleed on his jeans and inadvertently break his heart. He had walked her home, protected her from nightmares, taken her to see her favorite bands. He gave their son his last name and he had given her a song, and another child that was growing in her belly at this very moment, and so much hope.  
  
Ronnie frowned. But she still didn't actually know what color his eyes were. She would need to ask him that later.  
  
And suddenly, the service was over, and with an exchange of rings, and a quick kiss, and a roar of approval from their friends and family, she was Mrs. John Deacon.  
  
\---  
  
"Are your eyes closed?"  
  
Ronnie smiled at the anxiety she heard in John's voice. "Yes. Where did you say you were taking me?"  
  
"I didn't," John replied, one arm around her waist and one hand over her eyes as he guided her through the grass toward their destination. They didn't have long; wedding guests were being loaded into cars in order to be whisked off to the reception and darkness had already fallen.  
  
They bumped into something hard and Ronnie heard John mutter an apology.  
  
Finally, John stopped her and took his hand away. "All right," he said. "You can open your eyes."  
  
Ronnie slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times. They were in the graveyard behind the church. She tried to hide a smile as she realized that John had apologized respectfully earlier after walking into someone's tombstone.  
  
Looking down, Ronnie saw that they were at a particular tombstone. Crouching down to get a better look, Ronnie ran her fingers over the lettering engraved in the stone.  
  
_Tetzlaff._  
  
It was her parents' grave.  
  
"I know how much you wanted them to be here," John said softly, as he crouched beside her. "And as it turns out, they were here with us all along."  
  
Ronnie looked over at him in awe.  
  
"I'll give you three a moment," he said, before giving her hand a squeeze and leaving her alone.  
  
He waited at the edge of the graveyard and watched the headlights of the cars as they disappeared down the church driveway, his back turned to the Tetzlaff grave in order to give them all privacy. When he felt a hand on his arm, he knew Ronnie was ready.  
  
John wiped away her tears and led her towards the church.  
  
"I believe we have a party to go to now," he said cheerfully, as he snapped his fingers, shimmied his shoulders, and moved his upper body to some invisible beat.  
  
Ronnie burst out laughing, before picking up the hem of her dress and running ahead of him. "Oh _no!_ Disco Deaky has been unleashed!"  
  
John caught her and pulled her close, laughing along with her. Slowly, his smile disappeared as he leaned closer, and closer, until his forehead was pressed against hers and he had allowed his eyes to close as his lips hovered so close to hers...  
  
"Oi!" They heard Roger shout from somewhere in the darkness. "You can snog later!"  
  
"Hopelessly romantic, our Deaky, isn't he?" Freddie said proudly.  
  
"Roger!" Brian exclaimed. "It took Deaky four years to make Ronnie his wife.  Let them have their moment!"  
  
"And I've been waiting four years to dance at their wedding reception!" Roger huffed.  
  
John brushed his lips against Ronnie's, a promise for later.  
  
"I really love you," he said quietly.  
  
Ronnie brushed John's hair away from his face. "Not as much as I really love you."  
  
"We're sorry to interrupt," Brian said apologetically, as they approached. "We had to come back here because Roger thought he saw a ghost..."  
  
"Yes, a woman in white at a wedding," Freddie said in mock astonishment. "Who would have thought?"  
  
"It was a woman in white in a _graveyard_ ," Roger corrected him. "There's a big difference!"

"There's your ghost," Brian muttered, nodding towards Ronnie.  
  
"Excellent, darling! Time to celebrate!" Freddie exclaimed, as he threw his feathered boa around John and pulled him forward. Roger assisted by pushing John from behind.  
  
John managed to link his pinky with Ronnie's and throw her the sweetest of smiles, as Ronnie grabbed Brian's hand, and they all hurried out of the graveyard and towards their happily ever after.

_**THE END** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES!! Happily ever after!
> 
> The entire quote from Freddie about John being quiet, having a fiery streak underneath, and being all right once the thin ice is cracked is actually real (except it was said to a reporter rather than directly to John). I love that this quote exists!
> 
> I had the absolute BEST time writing this fic, and I hope everyone had an equally great time reading it. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, to everyone who read this fic, or left kudos, or commented on it. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Your reactions, feedback, and support kept this fic alive (honey, you'll survive ;) ).
> 
> <3


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